The Festa do Divino is understood to have come to Brazil from Portugal in the 18th century, but it is also possible that it also came from slaves brought to Brazil from the Azores. Having been adopted by Azorean slaves of African origin, it had already become a hybrid practice that has no direct equivalent in Europe or North America (though there are accounts that it is practiced in some areas of the United States by Azorean descendants).
This European-African-Brazilian hybrid continues in Maranhão today in its distinctive identity.
Al altar prepared for the Festa do Divino in Santa Rosa dos Pretos. It is an idiosyncratic altar representing the practices of the particular group of celebrants. It does not follow an institutional liturgy or sanction of the Catholic Church, but is an example of the many variations of Brazilian “popular Catholicism”
In the most widely-known Festa do Divino, the Espirito Santo (Holy Spirit or Holy Ghost) is the Brazilian Portuguese designation for Pentecost (English), Pfingsten (German), Whitsunday (UK) is honored in a ceremony that includes courtly dances whose movement an costumes recall their Portuguese origin. Adults worship, dance and sing a liturgy, but children are the centerpiece. These events of Popular Catholicism are not normed by the official Church and often follow customs and dates of their own.
Children perform in what North Americans would understand as a pageant play — representing Biblical figures. They wear costumes with crowns. Usually there are a girl and a boy representing “royalty” — an emperor/empress, or king/queen. In some interpretations they are seen as various representations of the Holy Spirit. However, any simply reference to celebrations on the Catholic calendar elsewhere in the world are confusing.
Here are some unusual features of the Festa do Divino as practiced in Maranhão:
It has a Catholic “feel,” but its main carriers and celebrants are caixeiras — women who are dedicated to honoring the Holy Spirit in percussion and song.
In other countries a similar celebration may fall on the 40th day after Easter (corresponding to the Pentecost), but in Maranhao it is celebrated in the 3rd week of November. It may last as long as a week.
It is associated with thanks for gifts (joias) received. This is often expressed in the form of animals and other food gifts that form the feast. Children and other blessings are also honored, but the feast is a central part of the celebration.
The ceremonies are not presided over by a priest. They are lay ceremonies and part of what is called “popular Catholicism” — hybrid Catholic practices that exist alongside, or even separate from, the institutional Church.
The practice is intertwined with African-Brazilian spiritual practice and generally is practiced by people with links to non-Catholic spiritual groups.
We observed one Festa do Divino celebration in Santa Rosa dos Pretos. The community lies along Brazilian federal highway 135 about 2 hours south of Sao Luis. In some accounts it has a long history as a quilombo, a community of fugitive and freed slaves formed outside the colonial power structure. Many estimates place the number of such communities in Maranhão at 500-700 or more, but the number varies widely between official (registered) and unofficial (not registered or contested) definitions. Registered quilombos are protected under federal and state laws, but their status is matter of continuing contention over identity, cultural practice, and land rights. A registered quilombo under procedures developed after the Brazilian Constitution of 1988, has official legal status. Many communities are still unofficial and often contested and even areas of violence with other claimants on land rights.
This is the first of two Festas do Divino that we observed and documented. The second (see later post on Maria Caixeira) was in Pindaré and was combined with the Festa do Sao Gançolo, another celebration that “feels” somehow Catholic, but is rich in other practices as well.
In both cases, the festival was organized and carried out by the caixeiras — women who perform percussion and singing as part of their devotional practice.
A “caixeira” — a Maranhão tradition of women devoted to the Espirito Santo who drum and sing
The Festa do Divino was held in this church, with part of the feast and celebration in a house nearby.
The “Church of the Divine Holy Spirit” in Santa Rosa dos Pretos is not an official church with priest and staff, but is part of the community and its events. The altar is especially decorated by the community for this celebration.
Festa can also mean feast, which is an important part of the celebration which may go on for days. The house below follows a common rural practice of having an open kitchen area where food is prepared and passed between the interior and exterior areas.
The rear of the kitchen at the meeting place for the celebrationThe makeshift field kitchen for preparing food the the celebrants. The rough work is done outside.The procession of children in the Festa do Divino celebration. The celebration is dedicated to worship of the Espirito Santo (Holy Spirit or Holy Ghost). The flags are an essential part of the procession as they lead the children dressed in royal dress. The commemoration corresponds in part to the Pentecost as practiced elsewhere, but in Maranhão this celebration to the Holy Ghost occurs in November. Popular Catholicism follows changes in climate and culture from the cultures of origin of festivals, and often take on new meanings and observances.The Festa do Divino is celebrated by the caixeiras, groups of women percussionists for whom this is a central spiritual practice (caixerias are those who play the caixas, or this particular type of drum). Behind them are some of the children in courtly dress (reflecting the Portuguese heritage of the celebration). In spite of the heat in the mid-90s, the children wear heavy ceremonial clothing.The caixeiras play and sing in a long celebration that blesses the event and the food to be shared. The caixeiras are the carriers of the celebration and represent the deep African-Brazilian roots of the observance. This part of the ceremony is a true “thanksgiving,” that may go on for nearly an hour as every animal and gift of food is blessed and honored.Part of the celebration near the Festa do Divino altar. There is constant drumming and devotional singing throughout the event. In this case a man is allowed to join, but is the focus of dialogue and joking with the women.A group of the female caixeiras are joined by a male drummer in a special performance for us
(Institute for National Historical and Artistic Patrimony)
Field work: Crossing the Munim River from the small city of Presidente Juscelino to Cachoeira Grande. The ferry is built from planks laid across two old fishing boat hulls. The operator bails out the hulls from time to time while he operates the wood rudder with his leg
[NOTE: The text below is to credit those who helped us and give some of the context of efforts in Maranhao to preserve heritage cultures. You can skip this and scroll directly down to the photos of the trip.]
One of the reasons Maranhao has such a rich heritage culture is its underdevelopment and large expanses of rural interior with little infrastructure. The effects of urbanization and education that are felt in the capitol Sao Luis are scarcely evident in the settlements (povoadas) of the rural interior.
The residents there are not totally isolated, however. A long-standing governmental effort links them with electricity. Though the lines are still being extended and improved, the effort was to bring all Brazil into a national media network — first with radio in the 1940s, then television from the late 1950s.
This was a political effort at nation-building, but it was not always followed by decent roads, water, and education. Mass media entertainment lives side by side with rural poverty.
The families we met were not isolated, though. Their groups (Bumba-meu-boi and Tambor da Crioula) sometimes perform outside their settlements and villages, and there is a dense cultural network linking the people in a diverse set of heritage spiritual and cultural practices. They are also connected to nearby towns and small cities. During our interviews, we saw children going to small local schools, residents on motorcycles moving about, and family members who were dressed for the villages and towns at the other end of the road.
The residents live in an infrastructure-poor area where water often must be carried in buckets from faraway well or holding tank. But they have television, they see occasional trucks carrying construction materials, and — for better or worse — they occasionally get culture specialists and researchers from Sao Luis.
The Institute for National Historical and Artistic Patrimony (IPHAN) is a federal agency that has responsibility for overseeing various cultural resources. This includes both buildings and physical sites (material culture) and cultural forms (immaterial cultural).
On this trip we were able to accompany Izaurina Nunes of IPHAN on her mission to support rural cultural practices and to find ways to help them survive.
The trip began in the small city of Rosario, then moved to Cidade Nova, Axixa, Presidente Juscelino, Cachoeira Grande, and Icatu. We visited many settlements — small communities (povoadas) that typically do not have a paved road or a good water source, and only minimal electricity. We needed four-wheel drive to reach some of the povoadas.
In one passage we took a slightly unsettling ferry (called a balsa) from Presidente Juscelino to Cachoeira Grande. the construction of the ferry — from two old fishing boat hulls — added some excitement to the short passage across the Rio Munim (Munim River). These two small cities are only a stone’s throw apart, but no bridge connects them.
Slightly upriver, where the water courses through sharp rocks (and gives the town its name — cachoeira, which means waterfall) women sometimes do laundry in the river because of limited fresh water in the town
Some of our work took us to bureaucratic offices in smaller cities. Here is one of the offices of the city of Axixa where a steady stream of people carry pieces of paper in and out
All around the region there are tributaries of the Rio Munim and there are other waters that flow from Baia Jose (Bay of Jose) and then from the Atlantic Ocean.
There is still a fishing tradition in the area, but some of the tributaries drying out in this hot season (In November it is late spring here). Some of the boats seem inactive as the waters and the fishing change.
On the Rio Munim a fisherman is sorting his catch of surubim — apparently a type of catfish. He is using a traditional cofu, or basket woven of buriti palm leaves. to hold the catch. Surubim can grow quite large, but the only ones we saw were small ones like this one
This is Dona Almerinda Veloso, leader of Bumba-meu-boi de Sao Joao de Rosario
One of Dona Almerinda’s boi/ox figures in a small building that doubles as a storage area for costumes and other materials. Her son stands with the with their group’s ox, along with a sack of bananas that had just been delivered by motorcycle. Unlike the highly expensive embroidered ox skins used in the capitol city of Sao Luis, these rural bois are often done with applique and other forms of handwork
Dona Almerinda’s storage building and headquarters
These women lead a Tambor da Crioula dance group, also in a small settlement. This African-derived dance form for women was declared a national patrimony (a sort of honorary designation as a cultural heritage). This visit of IPHAN (the National Institute for Historical and Artistic Patrimony) was to try to find ways to support these cultural groups in remote areas. It is hard work for IPHAN to bring support so deep into the interior,and hard work for people to maintain these traditions
Their home — a form of rural constuction with a frame of local wood and sticks that is filled with a kind of stucco. The roof is a sturdy one of tile. Some of the more modest houses use thatched palm fronds for the roof
Many of the people we visited offered what they could as hospitality. Sometimes it was water or a soft drink, desperately appreciated in the 95-degree heat and ferocious sun.
The Tambor da Crioula leader below was different: She offered us freshly-picked bananas and jucara, the same “wonder ingredient” known outside the region as acai. It is popular with body builders in Brazil because it is rich in antioxidants, fiber, vitamin C and much more. In vastly adulterated form it finds its way into American supermarket potions, but loses its character and probably its effectiveness along the way.
She offered us bananas that seem to grow nearby and one of the rare local treasures — jacara, or acai, which grows on local palms. It is highly perishable, so it is only near the source that you can get fresh, pure jacara/acai. The acai potions you find outside the region are frozen and usually mixed with of sugar. One popular variation is to serve it in a bowl thickened with a form of manioc flour (farofa).
This was literally the end of the line for us that day. There was some electricity here but no running water or plumbing. One of the Tambor da Crioula group’s members lives here with his family, at the end of a long and rough road. They seem to be connected to the more populated areas by motorcycle. Small displacement Hondas seem to be the most common replacement for animal transportation.
One of the out building in the sandy soil that only supports the palm forest and a few hardy fruit trees
Luiz Ferreira is the leader of a Tambor da Crioula group in the povoada of Mato Grosso. Though only women dance, the men provide percussion with drums like the ones behind him. There are typically three different drums, each with a different voice
We didn’t find the lead of one of the Bumba-meu-boi groups, but we located his father along the road. He was carrying his machete (facao), coming back from working
Roberto Pereira Santos has a modest house In the Cidade Novo neighborhood on the edge of Rosario. Behind a fence is a large terrain with a garden and a shelter where his Tambor da Crioula group performs. Like many residents in the interior, he is involved in a number of other spiritual practices. He is sitting here with a cluster of statues of various entities of Afro-Brazilian and indigenous origin.
Some of the occult symbols that are part of Roberto’s everyday spiritual life. His Tambor da Crioula group is called Sonhos de Sao Benedito (“Dreams of Saint Benedict,” the black saint who is the patron of the Tambor da Crioula)
One of Roberto’s altars showing a collection of entities from Catholicism and other traditions. There are other altars in his terrain representing deities from Afro-Brazilian and indigenous practice
Dona Luzia, leader of a Tambor da Crioula group in Cachoeira Grande (Maranhao)
Dona Luzia, here in front of her house. She is renovating the house (photo right) to provide space for her dance group.
This is another rural road in a povoada. Women here carry water from a community reservoir. In some settlements like this one women carry water long distances from a well or holding tank. Most often the water is stored in a small reservoir (caixa da agua) that may be outfitted with spigots for the residents. In other settlements we have seen the tanks enclosed and locked, apparently available only a certain times or perhaps not at all
Leandro da Conceicao Teixeira, leader of a Tambor da Crioula group in the small settlement of Sangrador. In front of his home a truck with building materials for the ranch down the unpaved road comes through, scattering the chickens and pigs and brushing aside the horses, donkeys and the occasional motorcycle or old bicycle. Water is scarce and must be carried, but there is electricity for limited lighting and the ubiquitous television
Senhor Leandro wanted photos of his wife also. We wanted photos of these wonderful people, and were very happy that they wanted the pictures too. We take copies of the photos to them whenever we return. In one home we had visited in 2008 the people remembered our visit and brought out a photo we had given them then.
Zequina Militao and Dona Nazare are another example of the interconnections of rural/small town cultural practice. They lead both Bumba-meu-boi group and Tambor da Crioula groups. Here they are in their sede, the building that houses their costumes and provides a performance space for the groups.
Sr. Zequinha de Militao and Dona Nazare, This couple have two groups — Tambor da Crioula de Baiacui and Bumba meu boi de Icatu in the village of Icatu. This is their headquarters and performance area. Around them are costumes and drums. The bright floral prints behind them are traditional in the huge, flowing skirts of the Tambor da Crioula dancers.
This is Itatuaba, a settlement (povoada) almost at the end of the road. It was about hour’s drive from the last paved road, and we occasionally needed 4-wheel drive to get through. The community is not far from the Bay of Jose (Baia Jose) and the Atlantic Ocean, but water is effectively far away because of the dense forest. From here there is only the same road back to Icatu where the asphalt begins again
Sao Luis has three markets that are favorite places to photograph– the Mercado Municipal (city market) city’s historic center, the Mercado Central (central market) just above the city center and what wold have been the city center in the late 19th century, and the central produce market (CEAS-MA) a bit more removed from the old center but placed at a busy intersection for easy access for trucks and cars. There is also a Mercado de Peixe (fish market) near the Praia Grande at the water’s edge below the historic center, but I haven’t figured out how to get there early enough to photograph.
The Mercado Municipal and the Mercado Central are wonderfully tacky and unsuited for actual food consumption — a photographer’s dream, in other words. The CEAS – Maranhao is a working produce market that supplies the region with fruits and vegetables. There is some animal protein as well (fresh chicken, crabs, shrimp), but this place is above all a bustling produce center.
CEAS seems to be the place where groceries and restaurants buy their fresh produce. It is huge, though not compared to New York or Sao Paulo, and it has a constant stream of vehicles coming in and out in the early morning.
This is the place to buy fresh produce. There are also specialized vendors for prepared food, spices, and other items that are hard to find in neighborhood markets.
The basic engine of the market — strong young men loading and unloading trucks. Some come from as far away as the farms and produce distributors in Sao Paulo
In front of the market. There is so much going on that there is scarcely a place to sit, and then on boxes and crates
Individual retail shoppers are also here — and they are very careful shoppers
The fresh crab lady at the entrance of the market
The non-vegetarian section outside the market. This is very fresh chicken. In the lower left are live chickens in crates. In the upper center of the photo some of the chickens are feet up and ready to be sold
Vendors in the central market. Those are mangoes below
Bananas, huge watermelons, green oranges. A common type of orange here is green in color and relatively hard. It is eaten by peeling the outer skin, then the inner white covering. If you buy from a street vendor they remove the first skin, and may remove the second one if you ask
My favorite mango seller
It is often difficult to find fresh herbs and spices in the city grocery stores. This man specializes in them and has some of his own mixtures
Men moving huge pumpkins from storage into a truck. This is a place of hard work
This food vendor serves a Brazilian specialty that may be unfamiliar to foreigners. It is a “tapioca” — not the tapioca pudding you might remember from your youth, or the tapioca balls that are srved in Asian markets in San Francisco. In Brazil the raw tapioca is fried as a crepe or small pancake, then filled with cheese, sweet condensed milk, or more imaginative fillings. This is the basic, throat-clogging tapioca
For those who want more than tapioca, this restaurant serves workers and visitors. The scripture is the one that begins with “And Jesus said ‘I am the bread of life…'”
The Day of the Dead (Dia dos Falecidos) in Caixias (Maranhao) Brazil is a major event as it is elsewhere in Latin America. We came here because of a special observance involving grave singers and the massive commemoration that is customary here. The observance is at the Cemiterio Olaria.
This is not the oldest cemetery in the city — that is Cemiterio dos Remedios where the wealthier citizens were buried. In Remedios some of the citizens showed their heritage and wealth by using Portuguese tiles (azulejos) on the grave markers.
In the Cemiterio Olaria there where there are few large tombs and other signs of wealth. Many graves are unmarked or simple mounds of dirt. Most have a wall built around them, but rarely have a gravestone as in the cemeteries where the wealthier are buried. They are packed together with no walkways or open space. You pick your way through the grave sites — carefully they are ringed with mourners, candles, or even fire.
On the day and of the Day of the Dead graves are lit with thousands of candles. Just before night the visitors leave pick their way through the dust and smoke back into Caxias.
The end of the Dia dos Falecidos (Day of the Dead) in the cemetery of Caxias (Maranhao). There are several cemeteries in this small city, but this one is unusual for the thousands of visitors placing candles and for the grave singers we came to see.
The graves in this old cemetery are so close that you can scarcely put a foot down to walk between them. With hundred, or thousands, of others in the cemetery you are often forced to step across candles, smouldering fires, and even on some of the graves themselves. Picking your way through the fire and dust in the falling evening is a challenge, and the temperatures over 90 degrees combine with the thousands of candles and fires. Sometimes visitors are choked with heat and dust. Outside dozens of vendors sell boxes of candles and water. A local business passes out fans for visitors.
We visited this cemetery specifically to see the custom of grave singers who go from site to site, apparently pre-arranged by the families who can afford them. They play and sing, accompanied by a flag bearer with the emblem of the Holy Ghost and a small oratorio.
The word “oratorio” typically refers to certain forms of religious vocal music, but it is also the term in Brazil for a small box containing an image of a saint or other religious symbols. It serves as a portable altar. Oratorios were used by traveling priests who rode from village to village, fazenda to fazenda, preaching in rural areas where there was no church.
The oratorio is a symbol of traditional devotion and its survival in the interior where churches and priests were often not available. The traveling priest performed that function, carrying his altar and holy books with him. It is also a reminder of the fact that the institutional Catholic Church could not penetrate into the interior in a permanent way during the early years of Brazil. This led to many variations on traditional practice, a lack of control from Rome (or Lisbon), and a fair amount of non-sanctioned priestly behavior (having a family, for example).
In this ceremony the oratorio is carried by the singing group along with its instruments and a flag bearer who carries a red banner with the dove of the Espirito Santo. The person requesting the observance stands in front of the flag and holds the oratorio until the singing is done.
A little about Caixias, Maranhao
Although we went to the city to seem the Day of the Dead customs, it is a historical city that played an important economic role in the 19th century. It is also the site of one of the most famous of the slave rebellions that marked the mid-19th century of Brazil (about 50 years before slavery was abolished in 1888).
The Balaiada Rebellion
Caxias is the famous historical city where the Balaiada Rebellion of 1838-40 culminated. It briefly brought together a non-elite coalition of slaves, poor farmers and a few artisans. In the most popular rendition it seems to have begun as a riot or jailbreak to free men who had been imprisoned facing transport to fight in the army. It spread to farmers and to slaves, who destroyed plantations and formed an army of sorts.
A force of about 3,000 slaves was led by Cosme Bento Chagas (photo above). For a few months they captured and held the small city of Caixias. They may have hoped to make Caixias into something resembling the model of a quilombo, the communities that were formed by freed and escaped slaves.
After a few weeks the slave army was crushed by the military, winning the commander of the army action the title of “Duke of Caxias.”
Brazil’s slave rebellions were eventually crushed, unlike the Haiti where the only successful rebellion forced the French to withdraw at the beginning of the 19th century. However, Brazil had experienced centuries of slave self-rule in quilombos, remnants of which survive by the hundreds today. There are an estimated 300 such settlements in Maranhao alone — some not far from present-day Caixias.
The Balaiada Rebellion is memorialized in its own museum in Caxias.
The Museum of the Balaiada commemorating the Maranhao social rebellion of 1838-40. The museum is built near the site of the military garrison. The display has mixed sentiments about the various social elements in the battle, reflecting the ambivalence Brazilians have about their colonial and slave history
Getting There — the bus to Caixias
The small city of Caixias is about 4-6 hours by bus from Sao Luis. The variation in time depends on several factors — there is only one highway and sometimes there is trouble, blocking the road for hours. There is also bus trouble from time to time, and we sometimes see a bus parked along the roadside with someone spinning a wrench and cursing. Sometimes it is the bus we are in.
The worst of the road hazards are the legendary bus stops.
The bus stop at Itapecuru-Mirim is notorious. It has rural folkloric value for bus stop aficionados, but is not a place to hang around. Here the fire is being stoked for road food to be grilled later and served in aluminum plates with rice. We carried our own food.
There is a cluster of food and water vendors at Itepecuru-Mirim — this one is peeling oranges for travelers
More road food — breads and airy pastries. Inside the building there are small “restaurants,” but it is unwise to enter there, let alone eat the food.
The Dia dos Falecidos at a the Cemiterio Olaria in Caxias
There are several cemeteries in the city, but this one has an unusual custom that we went to see. Here is part of our group of four. This event is virtually unknown outside Caxias and the rigors of heat, dust and inaccessibility will not make this a tourist stop. Simone was filming for us. Jandir works in one of the institutions of the Secretariat of the state of Maranhao and is documenting these practices while they still exist.
The custom of cemetery singers is common in east, central, and southeast Maranhao. These groups are often referred to as Folioes de Divindade, which translates roughly to “Merrymakers/pranksters of divinity.” They are performers under the banner of the Espirito Santo. There are many such groups, usually composed only of men. This group is led by Chico Touro, whose birth name is Francisco Lacerdo Nunes. This group consisted of the singers/musicians, flag bearers, an organizer who seemed to know which sites to visit (and collect the fee). There are others, including a boy who stayed near the guitar player to fan him from the heat, dust and smoke.
Documenting the practice of Day of the Dead singers. This group goes from grave to grave singing songs for the dead. Here Simone is filming along with Jandir Goncalves, a Sao Luis folklorist who works in the Maranhao Secretariat for Education and Culture. He was our companion and guide to these less-known practices in the interior of Maranhao
People commemorate the dead with candles — thousands of them. Here people are setting the candles while the grave singers (“Merrymakers of Divinity”) perform at an adjacent grave site
The evening falls early near the equator, so by 6:00 pm the light is nearly gone and the candles are the main source of light. There are often fires that of debris and leaves. Walkers among the graves have to navigate among the candles and smouldering fires and ashes.
The flag is carried to each of the graves where the singers appear. The woman behind seems to be part of the group of singers and knew which graves they were to be visited. Another member of the singing group carries a red flag with the white dove, symbol of the Espirito Santo, to the site. These mourners stand with the “oratorio” — a small box serving as a portable altar
The graves are often simple and sometimes unmarked. The more elaborate ones are like boxes that encircle the grave. These structures are covered with candles for the commemoration.
Here you can see the more elaborate roofed structures, the simpler unmarked boxes around the grave, and (at the lower right) a simple grave with no permanent marking.
Fires break out, or are set, in debris and leaves around the cemetery
This is the guitarist near the end of the commemorations. The small hand at the left is a small boy who follows the guitarist and fans the smoke and heat away from him, as best he can. Visitors thread their way out of the cemetery before it becomes completely dark, but at the climax of the early evening the cemetery is completely lit by thousands of candles
The end of the Dia dos Falecidos. Only candle light remains for the visitors to pick their way back into the city
Cultura popular translates into “popular culture,” but in Maranhao it does not mean films, media and mass entertainment. In some academic discourses it retains that meaning (which is common in the United States and Europe), but it is a shorthand for “culture of the people” — folk, “traditional,” or heritage culture as practiced in the state of Maranhao.
This conference seemed to define a variety of groups and practices as eligible:
Bumba-meu-boi
Tambor da Crioula
Caxeira
Also present were
Capoeira
Afro-Brazilian spiritual practices
The term cultura popular has an operational and political sense because it designates certain practices and celebrations as worthy of preservation and support. On this trip we were able to accompany and visit events organized by the Maranhao Secretary of Education and Culture.
The event was one of many activities under the slogan: “Mais cultura e turismo” — “More culture and tourism.” This slogan points to the state’s priority of promoting popular culture in order to increase tourism.
Getting there
It is a long bus ride from Sao Luis to Santa Inez, through a countryside rich in cattle (and secondarily in cotton and some other hardy crops). These are sturdy cattle that form an important base for Maranhao economy. Incidentally, they also form the narrative base for the Bumba-meu-boi celebration which traditionally has a story about a slave who steals his master’s prize ox. In the celebration, the boi, or ox, is represented by frame covered by an embroidered “skin.”
Also along the way, mangoes ripening by the roadside
A prevalent phenomenon that often surprises visitors is the large number of protestant/evangelical churches. They are often small and simple, but very numerous. The churches seem to fill a need for a direct religious experience that traditional Catholicism may not offer. The evangelicals also promote a conservative social agenda such as opposition to reproductive rights for women They are also trenchant in their opposition to non-Christian spiritual practices of Afro-Brazilian origin and are part of a relatively new fault line in Brazilian religious life.
In the interior the taxi service may be a Moto Taxi. This one has a religious name of “Association Moto Taxi of Christ the Redeemer”
The conference was a chance to get to know local performers and cultural figures in the interior of Maranhao. Here Simone is talking with “Maria Caixeira,” the leader of a group of women singers/drummers called caixieras (more on them below).
The caixeiras are groups of women who sing and play their own percussion. This caixeira a shirt of an “Women’s Democratic Cultural Association … ” with other words that signify their religious commitment. The caixeiras have both a religious and a secular set of songs, but their primary commitment to to espirito santo — the Holy Ghost — and the holidays celebrating the Pentecost.
There were various performances and presentations, but this post shows more of the caixeiras because this was our first real contact with this art and were entranced by the spirituality and virtuosity of the women who practice it.
One important thing we learned at the meeting was that the many diverse practices of the interior are interrelated and that none exists in isolation from the others. Practitioners of the Bumba-meu-boi may also be involved in Tambor da Crioula, the Catholic Church and other religious practices of African origin. Evangelicals are also in evidence. This diversity means a great deal of overlapping and multiple allegiances, but also some competition. Some of the participants referred to “macumba,” a general term for some of the more occult practices of the interior. Depending on the speaker and the context, macumba might be a pejorative. This is part of a complicated local discussion about some controversial practices.
“Macumba” and other Afro-Brazilian spiritual practices have been discouraged and persecuted in the past, though they continue to survive as an important cultural phenomenon in the interior (as they do in the capital of Sao Luis and other Brazilian cities as well). They are not actively persecuted by the law now, but they are still controversial. The Catholic Church has a long history of coexistence and sincretism with these spiritual practices, but the growth evangelical denominations has created a new and difficult dialogue.
The conference was attended by people of many, interconnected elements of cultura popular. This woman gave a speech invoking Catholic and Afro-Brazilian divinities and affirming the interconnection among practices like the Bumba-meu-boi, African-Brazilian spiritual practice, the Tambor da Crioula dance, and many other practices. All this is interconnected with Catholicism and evangelical practices.
Singer Maria Cordeiro
Maria Cordiero leads a group of three leaders in a classic song by the famous singer “Coxinho” called “Urrou, Urrou” The title refers to the roar made by the ox in the Bumba-meu-boi story when it is resurrected.
A young girl on a downtown side street wheels her food cart to the city center
On a public square near the pubic library of Santa Inez the government of the state of Maranhao raised its balloon to announce the evening performance. The legend says “Government for all of us.”
The public performance also drew street vendors selling popcorn and crafts
There was also a vendor of caipirinha, a rum-based drink with fruit juice and sugar
Sao Luis caixeiras (Rojao de Caixa de Camilia Martinez) onstage at the Santa Inez evening show
Maria Caixiera and her group at the conference
Maria Caixeira during the “secular” part of her group’s presentation. The first section reflects the group’s commitment to Espirito Santo (Holy Spirit), their most important celebration.
The singing and drumming of caxeiras
The drum used by caixeiras.
Maria Caixeira and group performing at the Santa Inez meeting
Going back: The Pindare bus stop
A few miles from Santa Inez is the town of Pindare which is known for having the oldest sugar cane plant in the region. It is inactive now, but stands as a sign of the past economy of the Pindare and of the slaves who built the factory and worked in it.
This is a general semi-commercial district with repair shops, capoeira studio, and various small businesses.
From here we returned briefly to Sao Luis (after a 6-hour bus ride) and then left again for a celebration of the Day of the Dead in the city of Caixias and a few days with a specialist from a federal cultural agency who was visiting small town and rural practitioners of the Bumba-meu-boi and Tambor da Crioula.
For more on these trips, see later posts.
Leaving Santa Inez (from Pindare bus station)
The Pindare bus stop was decorated for the Day of the Dead (Dia dos Falecidos) to be celebrated two days later
In an earlier post I described the Morte of Bumba-meu-boi de Axixa. This was actually our first time in the field again to document the festival (see earlier post).
And we are finally back on the road again with our project of interviewing members of the Bumba-meu-boi. After weeks of organizing and scheduling, writing questionnaires and charging batteries, and worrying about with the practical things of life in Brazil, we have begun interviewing and photographing again.
Our first round of interviews was in 2008 when we first met many of the women we are now visiting in this second phase. There are more women leaders now, in part due to the passing of several male patriarchs of the tradition and their having been replaced by wives, partners or daughters.
This is a major change from the male-centered heritage culture and we wanted to learn from the women how it happened, how they cope, what sort of challenges they find, and what discrimination they may feel for reasons of gender, race or class.
We are deeply indebted to them for their generosity and candor in talking with us.
This first post shows our interviews with two women whom we have gotten to know over the years, Nadir Cruz of Bumba-meu-boi da Floresta (also known as Boi de Apolonio) and Regina Claudia dos Santos of Bumba-meu-boi de Liberdade (also known as Boi de Leonardo). Both groups were led by iconic leaders of cultura popular and the groups still honor their names.
It happens that both groups are in the neighborhood of Liberdade, but they are of differing sotaques of rhythmic styles — the more African Zabumba style and the Baixada style with its Cazumbas and exotic creatures.
This is part of our normal working set-up. Simone handles the video and interviewing, and I do the portraits and still photos of the headquarters, costumes, or whatever else is going on at the time. Usually these are busy places with young people’s programs, neighbors stopping in, and the normal everyday business of these women who are leaders of their groups and powerful, charismatic figures in their communities.
Regina Claudia and Boi de Liberdade (Zabumba sotaque or rhythmic style)
Below is an important corner of the headquarters (sede) of the group. Every group we have visited has similar space where they display their ceremonial ox figures (the “bois”) and have an altar where saints and other entities are kept.
This is the headquarters of one of the groups, Bumba-meu-boi de Liberdade,where we are working and interviewing. The poster at the left shows Leonardo, the former leader of the group. The boi/ox is in the center with the group’s name Liberdade and in the left center of the ox is a likeness of Leonardo. The altar i the background is common for these groups, who place a mixture of saints and sometimes other entities in the lighted recess. Saint John and Saint Benedict (the black saint) are usually prominent.
Boi de Liberdade is in the Zabumba tradition which emphasizes African-style frame drums and the larger “zabumba” below in the center. The taller drum on the left is used in the women’s dance, Tambor da Crioula (see photo below). The costumes are the “ribboned cowhands” (caboclos da fita) that play a major role in the celebration.
Costumes with Tambor da Crioula drums
The tall drums are used by the male percussionists who accompany the women’s dance Tambor da Crioula. The three-drum percussion set is virtually the same as used in African-Brazilian spiritual houses and are often played by the same people.
By tradition women did not participate in the Bumba-meu-boi but in the allied Tambor da Crioula group. This is changing, but men are still limited to percussion in the Tambor da Crioula dance
Regina Claudia at the headquarters of Boi de Liberdade. The boi/ox on the left is embroidered with the group’s name. The traditional religious alcove is in the background
The young woman on the right is a relative of Claudia Regina. She and her friend were just coming home from school and looking in the front window to see what we were doing.
Claudia Regina in front of the vaqueiro/caboclo da fita costumes of her group.
Boi da Floresta (Baixada sotaque, or rhythmic style)
This is the altar/alcove in the headquarters of Boi de Floresta. The alcove contains a variety of saints ad other entities, faced from the front by two bois (the ox center and left) and a burrinho (small donkey figure) a right. We have photographed this room many times — most recently with the UWM Study Abroad class of June 2015. At that time UWM students had dance classes in the room, and helped regular members in embroidering costumes (see posts from the Study Abroad class in blog from June 2015)
I believe this is one of the new costumes that were partially embroidered by UWM students in June (see earlier posts). This is a Cazumba, a mythical creature of the forest who is an important figure in the Baixada style of the Bumba-meu-boi
Here Simone is interviewing/filming Nadir Cruz, one of our oldest friends in Maranhao. Nadir was largely responsible for Bumba-meu-boi da Floresta (also known as Boi de Apolonio) until her husband Apolonio died in june 2015. At the time of the interview she was making the transition to being the leader of the group.
Our friend Nadir Cruz, in the headquarters of Boi da Floresta, bairro of Liberdade, Sao Luis, Maranhao. Behind here on the table are the featurered head pieces worn by the female dancers (called “indias”or tapuias).
Previous blog posts for June, 2015 include photos and films of dance classes in this space. If you scroll the blog back to the June posts, there is also film of the “baptism” (batizado) of the boi/ox that occurs on the eve of St. John’s day, June 24/25. Sao Joao is the patron saint of the Bumba-meu-boi festival and is usually shown as a child with a lamb.
This is the central square of Sao Luis historical center. There is a performance venue behind where we are standing, market on the left. This is a quiet afternoon with virtually no tourists and too much sun for meandering about. On festival days, most evenings, and special occasions there are reggae bands, street vendors, restaurant tables, and swarms of people. On quiet days like this you can actually visit the Casa das Ferramentos, the turquoise blue hardware store on the left
One side of market with shops along Rua Portugal. The street names often reflect the fact that this was a Portuguese colonial city (after they took it from the French, who first settled Sao Luis — and gave it it’s name — in 1612)
The front of the market, opening onto the square. The entrance leads to a cluster of small shops, the most exotic of which sell huge baskets (cofus) of dried shrimp, bulk packages of roasted cashews, produce, and odd-looking bottles of stuff (some of which is recognizable as liquor or pepper sauce, but others of unknown origin). There is even a shop where you can but a 50 kilo bag of garlic.
If you were planning to give up drinking, this is a good time. The purple bottle to the left is taquira, a strong liquor made from manioc or cassava. Known locally as mandioca, manioc is a staple food of he interior and with indigenous people. In town it can become macaxeira which is fried like french fries, or it can be ground into farofa, a dense flour that is spread on food. The one on the right says something about butter, but I’m not drinking that one either.
The nutritional benefits of the purple liquor are unproven, and generally not to be recommended. On the other hand, manioc itself is a regular feature of the Brazilian diet, and in the interior it is a basic food item (like potatoes and grain at the same time.
Another thing not to drink. It is popular to place fruits and sea creatures in bottles of alcohol. They seem to be made by cutting the bottle and resealing it with a woven cover over the cut. Perhaps, though, this is just my pragmatic notion. The crabs may have gotten into the bottle of booze some other clever way.
Sao Luis has been declared an international landmark by UNESCO because of its colonial buildings and the distinctive tiles (azulejos) that date from the early French and Portuguese colonial period. This particular building now houses government cultural offices , a few commercial shops, and a capoeira studio. The old porticos are closed now and used here for street art.
In an earlier post I described a visit to the artisan mask-maker Abel Texeira, A mask (here known as a careta) takes thousands of beads, sequins, tiny glass tubes and other decorations. Here is one of the shops where most of the supplies are sold.
There are higher quality decorative materials available in Sao Paulo, and at least one embroider (see post on Dona Tania Soares) gets materials there whenever possible. They are said to be expensive Japanese embroidery decoration, not found in Sao Luis.
The historic center has a thriving market for tourist trinkets and craft work. Some seem to have a “traditional” or even esoteric origin (Afro-Brazilian or indigenous spiritual entities), but many have a kitschy tourist quality full of with stereotypes of women and rural Brazilians.
Hammocks (redes, in Portuguese) are available in shops everywhere. They vary in quality and color. This one is in front of the “Abolition Store,” which features Afro-Brazilian and reggae/rastafarian themes. In fact, this small plaza area is home to a colony of reggae bars and culture. Sao Luis is often called the “Brazilian Jamaica” because of the prevalence of “roots reggae” here
A small plaza where Tambor da Crioula groups dance during festivals, and which is normally filled by night with reggae music. Above the painted door is a reference to Sao Benedito, the black saint revered in the Afro-Brazilian dance form of Tambor da Crioula (another post on this later). Saint Benedict is also “Saint Ben,” known in many other countries as a patron of blacks and the poor.
This is another side of the tiny reggae plaza, with the slogan “Arroz, feijao, and ganja.”
This translates to the basic Maranhao reggae diet of “Rice, beans, and ganja (marijuana, maconha).”
Most nights there is an intense atmosphere of loud music and various herbal fragrances. The hotel where we normally stayed is nearby, so we could enjoy the reggae until 2:00 or 3:00 am.
Sao Luis is beautiful but not wealthy. These Iberian-style steps connect upper and lower parts of the historic center and have been under renovation for years.
Joelma travels to indigenous territories in Maranhao to bring back artisanal work to sell in this shop in the historic center. She is a constant source of information about the status of indigenous people in the interior, who are threatened by hunters, miners, the lumber industry, road construction, and land conflicts of all sorts. In the complex racial and ethnic culture of Maranhao, the indigenous peoples are both protected and threatened. Many live on what are referred to as the “remnants” or remains of quilombos. For centuries freed and escaped slaves escaped to remote regions, often in the deep forests, to communities whose remoteness gave them some protection the plantation owners and slavers. Many intermarried with the indigenous peoples who often supported and protected them. Today the quilombos and other small settlements often show this centuries-old ethnic mixture.
Unlike the United States where there were limited wild spaces for slaves to escape, the first Brazilian quilombos were often deep in the interior where the white authority could not easily reach them. Many were founded by escapees and free blacks at least as early as the 17th century. The largest of them, Palmares (in the current state of Alagoas) was said to have had a population of some 20,000. It lasted from 1605 until 1694 when, after several unsuccessful expeditions against them, they were wiped out by an army of mercenaries.
Some of the basket work from the indigenous settlements that Joelma represents. They are all woven from different varieties of palm, whose endless variety here provides natural materials that fill a myriad of uses for construction and practical items like baskets.
In late October we moved to another temporary apartment a bit further from the beach and more to the west along its trajectory. We still visit it once or twice a day, but new location changes the view a bit. In an earlier post I described the physical sensations of living at the equator and talked about the beach. Since then we have moved westward along the beach and experience it a bit differently. We are further from the slightly rough-cut apartment along the beach avenue and closer to the middle-class high rises you can see in photos below.
Sunday morning — after a long walk you can get fresh green coconuts. They cut open the top and place a straw for drinking the coconut water inside. If you wish, they can crack the coconut open later so you can eat the soft flesh. These “green” coconuts are much different from the mature brown coconuts known outside the country. They are still filled with fluid that is reputed to be full of electrolytes and is restorative on a hot day.
Living near the beach in Sao Luis, Maranhao means beginning and ending each day with a walk on the sand. Here we look to the north and west where freighters wait in anchor further out in the bay. One by one they will circle to the north and then west to pick up their load of iron ore from the Itaqui that services the Vale mining enterprise.
The tide and winds would cover some of the restaurants if it weren’t for these workers. I think in an earlier post I mentioned Sisyphus and his mythical curse of pushing a boulder up a hill in perpetuity. This is also a metaphor for dealing with the Brazilian bureaucracy
We see the early life of the beach, including these men who work each day to put the beach “back where it belongs.” Each tide brings in more sand, and the prevailing strong winds from the east move the dry sand toward the dunes to the south — where the restaurants are. To keep the tables from disappearing requires constant shovel and wheelbarrow work.
There is station of “Bombeiros” (above, center) whose job may be rescue work, though we see them mostly running in formation, riding in an all-terrain vehicle, and preparing to do something in the boat to the right. In the foreground is a vendor’s ice cream cart
The bombeiros are a rescue and life-saving squad. They are often garrisoned in a military-style facility. At the Calhau beach in Sao Luis they have a headquarters where they train.
Bombeiros training on the beach. Their training also seems to include a periodic pick-up soccer game on the beach
This is a late afternoon soccer game with spectators. By 6:00 pm the sun has dropped below the horizon. Being on the equator means roughly 12 hours of sun a day throughout the year. When the sun is up, it is fierce.
Morning and evening walks are the most comfortable when the sun is low and there is a bit of an overcast.
On this Sunday morning you can see how the packed sand is a great surface for walkers, bicycle riders, and the occasional horse or two
Evenings are when the egrets (called garcas in Portuguese) visit the shallow tide ponds.
in the evening egrets come to the small tidal ponds
There are other animals as well. Most dogs here are little apartment-sized animals, interspersed with a few Rottweilers walked by big guys with tattoos. This one comes here on his own every day
A wedding party being photographed in the early eveningWe don’t know the name of this tiny flower that grows in the dunes, but it has a set of needle-like leaves that remind me of the late stage of climbing climatis plants. It’s a surprise to see flowers surviving the human and natural conditions of the beachfront.
The western reach of the shore is rocky. The buildings are constructed on a rocky portion of the coast that is called Ponto Farol (Lighthouse Point) — recalling the lighthouse that announced to ships the treacherous shoreline here. The smooth, flat bottom turns abruptly to a rough, unforgiving rock shelf that is mostly hidden in high tide.
The dunes shield the beach from the south side (where the road and pedestrian walks and restaurants are).
With a little careful framing of the photo the beach looks a bit more deserted that it really is.
This statue at the west end of the beach recalls the fishing history of the region. Now shipping and urban misuse of the water have caused the fishing to move elsewhere
The third of the Sao Luis fishermen, and the most eloquent
In place of the fishermen there are now mostly ore ships (bound for Itaqui, the iron ore port), and kite-surfers. These two explained that they sometimes surf along the coast from a beach several miles north — when they feel like a long ride.
Most of the bars are on stilts because of the drop from the dunes and rock formations to the to the lower beach. I’m not sure a safety professional paid much attention to the engineering here
Some days the tides are high. This day was one of heavy overcast and the night before one of a full moon.
On days like this we walk on a running-bicycling sidewalk above the beach. This takes us past the bars and restaurants. In early morning some of the kite surfers are getting ready, and the boot camp has moved to the high ground. As the photo below shows, the supports are exposed during low tide and much of the day.
Another beach-side look at a bar/restaurant. Frankly, I’d sit closer to the front where the building rests on rock
The bars all have similar engineering. Here, early in the morning, the heroes of the beach (in orange) clean things up for another day of humans. They wear full orange suits with hats and neck covers, looking a bit like a disposal crew for hazardous waste (which is not entirely untrue). Each morning they take a break in shade of one of the bars on stilts.
The dunes and palm were doing just fine before the developers took over the upper ridge of the dunes
The nature of construction along the beach shows that there is a strong “we’re up here and you’re down there” social organization
These are the hands of Sao Luis’ best known embroiderer. Tania Soares has played a central role in regional cultura popular for years. She provides embroidered costumes to many of the Bumba-meu-boi celebration groups, and other in Sao Luis’ vibrant popular culture.
Her work reaches a high point of production in June when she has to deliver the last of the new skins (couros) for the boi (symbolic ox). Groups that can afford it will have a new couro each year.
Each skin, or couro, is a work of art in a highly recognizable style. There are many embroiders producing art in the region, but Dona Tania Soares is probably the most distinctive.
We have visited her many times over the years and photographed her work. This visit (September 2015) was at a quieter time and only a few pieces were being created.
Some of these are below — a costume’s collar in shown below with on the work table with the tools and decorative glass beads and small glass tubes that she uses.
Design of a collar to a costume, partially filled in
She was also working on a larger costume piece with some of her most popular themes — some version of the holy family. In Maranhao that is Jesus flanked by the Virgin Mary and Saint John (Sao Joao).
Sometimes Saint John is shown as an adult in his role as Jesus’ confessor, but here he is the child who is the patron of the Bumba-meu-boi festival.
Common Catholic themes in Sao Luis embroidery, the Virgin Mary, Jesus and Saint John (Sao Joao). In this region St John is revered as the cousin and confessor of Jesus, but he is most commonly represented as a child with a lamb. He is the patron saint of the Bumba-meu-boi festival, the most popular cultural celebration in Sao Luis.
Detail of Dona Tania’s embroidery. There are still many hours of work to fill in the design completely
Detail of Saint John (Sao Joao) and the lamb.
Saint John is central to the celebration in the federal state of Maranhao (of whihl Sao Luis is the capitol) and regional legends link him and the other June saints to the sacred ox (which links them to the festival).
Traditionally performers and supporters of the Bumba-meu-boi did so out of a promessa to thank Sao Joao for blessings received. As Jesus’ confessor he was considered an especially powerful entity for granting blessings.
The promessa tradition is less powerful now, especially in the more performance-oriented celebrations in the capitol city of Sao Luis, but the patron saint is still revered.
In the Afro-Brazilian spiritual traditions of Maranhao, Sao Joao and other Catholic saints are often understood as a surrogate for an entity of African origin. For example, a popular theme in Dona Tania’s are is the orixa Iansa (Yansa) who is the Afro-Brazilian entity related to Saint Barbara.
Dona Tania’s neighborhood
Dona Tania’s neighborhood. Children coming home after school
Dona Tania has made two embroidered hats for us in the past — one with Saint George (often with the Afro-Brazilian Ogum), and with the emblem of Corinthians (a Sao Paulo soccer team). We are discussing the symbols to be placed on a third hat. The customer can, in principle, choose the symbols to be used, but there is always an artistic negotiation.
The Morte do Boi is the final celebration of the season for this group which performs in the Orquestra rhythmic tradition. This tradition is somewhat newer than the other forms, having been developed since the 1950s.
Orquestra innovated the classic form of performance by adding costumed “indias,” young women in a few feathers, brightly dressed vaqueiros (cowhands in the story), and European instrumentation (rather than the percussion used in other groups). The classic narrative cycle of a prize ox stolen by a slave and slaughtered. The slave is caught by the vaqueiros (sometimes aided by indios). Faced with death if he does not restore the boi to its master, the group resorts to indigenous and African shamans who revive the boi. Over the years this slave narrative has become a devotion to Sao Joao (Saint John) and connected to his name day (24 June). In some groups the Catholic devotion and resurrection story (including communion) are melded with African-Brazilian spiritual practice. In this group the Catholic devotional heritage is dominant.
A vaqueiro
Orquestra is considered by some of the older styles as less “traditional, but this Morte follows some of the basic elements of a closing celebration. The photos are in more of less in the order of performance of the celebration.
The embroidered couro, or skin, of the ox decorated with the holy family
The Morte do Boi is the “death” of the symbolic ox that closes the performance and celebration season of a group in the Maranhao Bumba-meu-boi tradition.
The boi, or ox, was “baptized” in a ceremony (batizado) on the day of St. John (the night of the 23rd/24th June) and performed in public celebrations from June until the Morte.
The death is a symbolic act that closes the season, but it is also symbolic of the life cycle of the harvest, and of human life. It is also deeply significant that the blood of the slaughtered “ox” is distributed to the celebrants. In practice, the ox is a four-foot ox puppet that is “danced” by a “miolo” who is a strong, agile person who carries the puppet on his/her shoulders.
The leadership of the groups has traditionally been through male lineages and families, but several women have taken over groups. Often this is on the death of the leader who may have been a spouse, partner, or father. This is the leader of Axixa, taking over from her husband who died about two years ago.
“Leila” Naiva, leader of Bumba-meu-boi de Axixa, here in performance costume
By Maranhao tradition the ox is decorated with a couro or skin, that is usually embroidered — either with great affection by the celebrants in the pre-season, or by a professional embroider (at significant cost).
There are often two ox figures — the one that has been danced all season and another that is especially decorated for the slaughter.
There are other figures in the performance, such as this burrinha which is “worn” by a performer who stands inside the little donkey which is held up by a pair of suspenders
This ceremony is typically the end of the celebration season (though some of he more commercial groups continue throughout the year).
The celebration is at a “headquarters” near the town of Axixa. The banner lower left proclaims 50 years since the group’s founding. Its founder, Francisco Naiva, recently died and the leadership has been taken over by his wife
Here, in the 3rd week of October 2016 is the Morte as celebrated by the group Bumba-meu-boi de Axixa. Axixa is a small town near Rosario which is near Morros which is near the river Munim which is about 70 miles from Sao Luis which is about 5,000 miles from, say, Oshkosh, Wisconsin.
The storage room of the headquarter with costumes waiting for the performers to arrive
By heritage practice the “boi” escapes and hides in the forest or the community. The group then “searches” for the ox, visiting supporters and friends along the way. Here the Axixa performers are in the village neighborhood to perform
Indias performing on the street in Axixa
Catirina will also come to your house. Traditionally performed by guys in boots and macho drag, the character of Catirina has become more stylized and stylish
The beer tent is an important part of the celebration
The boi/ox enters. This ox is decorated with the season’s embroidered skin. By tradition it would have been baptized in June on Saint John’s day. This boi/ox dances and is not sacrificed — another specially decorated ox (see below) is “slaughtered”
This is the ox for “slaughter.” The leaves on its head mark it as a “boi de mata,” the ox of the forest. It was hiding from the vaqueiros, but has been brought by them to the slaughter.
The group’s band and singers, including the leader on the right
The performance (sometimes called a brincadeira or “play”). An India in front, vaqueiro at left, and other figures in the background (such as the ribboned costume at center left). Each character has a performance tradition and role to play in the story
The perspective of the audience/group supporters. The Morte draws a mix of supporters, family, friends, and those who come for the drinks and entertainment. In smaller communities the Bumba-meu-boi celebration is often a major form of recreation.
The ox is dragged to the post (left, in green) where it is tethered and “slaughtered”
The ox’s blood is gathered in a basin and distributed to the performers and audience. This ritual, reminiscent of religious communion, is the climax of the performance. Here a boy dips a glass of wine. This is wine by the gallon and drunk in plastic cups
The vaqueiros distribute wine to celebrants. This is often a sad moment because it is the death of the ox and traditionally has meant the end of the celebration. As performance groups become more commercial, the Morte is not always the end of the season’s performances. But the nominal tradition of the classical cycle is still honored by most groups.
The crowd is a mixed group — here a crowd of young boys attracted to the celebration (and to the camera). In all the celebrations I have photographed I have accumulated hundreds of children’s photos like this
This is the miolo who danced the embroidered boi/ox. Now off-duty. He adopted me as his official photographer and was my “guide” to the celebration. His advice got less distinct as the evening wore on. He was kind enough to do my drinking for me.
Some think that alcohol is sometimes a problem in the celebration. I have about as many photos of drunks as children, both of whom are attracted by the camera (and the “journalist’ from the U.S.)
Due to the wine, beer and the late hour, the Morte usually ends a bit less ceremoniously than it begins. The tradition blends religion, performance, and community celebration — it is not as openly ribald or sensuous as the Carnaval in Rio de Janeiro, perhaps because of it’s anchoring in small-town and rural devotional traditions.
Abel Texeira is a master mask-maker whose work is known all over Maranhao and seen in many groups of the Baixada tradition (the region where he lived before migrating to Sao Luis).
His health is failing now and he is not as active creatively, but his wife is still working in his signature style.
His work have been exhibited in the Afro-Brazilian Museum of Sao Paulo and in various art and folklore galleries throughout Brazil. He is also featured in various books of folklore culture, and his work continues to be danced everywhere in the region.
The masks are the face covering of somewhat mysterious creatures in the Baixada tradition known as cazumbas. They are distinctive to this style of Bumba-meu-boi and found among Baixada groups throughout the region.
Abel and Simone. We have been visiting them for several years now. He was quite weak from diabetes and heart problems, but he managed to get up to see us. He remembered the Milwaukee Brewers shirt we once took him and put it on to greet us.
Abel’s classic mask style, now created by his wife Marie shown here (with grandchild)
Abel Texeira and grandchildren, bairro of Coroadinha, city of Sao Luis
One of Abel’s grandchildren
Street in the bairro of Coroadinha, one of the most underserved and troubled neighborhoods in the city
Abel Texeira with his signature personal mask that he wore during his years as an active brincante (performer) in the Baixada group Bumba-meu-boi da Floresta. Unlike his later style of cloth masks, this mask from the 1970s is made of wood. Dancing all night in this heavy mask and Cazumba costume is a challenge on hot Sao Luis nights. He wore it for what he thinks will be the last time about two years ago when he dressed and masked so I could photograph him.
Tide pools and rivulets at sunset, Calhau Beach in Sao Luis
Tonight the conditions were just right for the terns, the egrets and the kite surfers. There is a prevailing wind of about 25 miles per hour from the east, sweeping the beach along its length, which runs nearly a perfect east-west trajectory. Tonight the wind was a bit higher and seemed to have shifted a bit to the north, blowing large waves across the bay. The tide came higher than usual, shrinking the beach to a fraction of its normal width and creating a huge expanse of damp, slightly packed sand. Each long rolling wave brought new little creatures to the shore, attracting terns and egrets. There were the occasional clusters of young “boot camp” athletes running around orange cones they laid out in a beach course, thrashing along to a techno beat from a portable music system. They didn’t discourage the birds or anyone else because the offshore wind blew the sound away from the water. Even the egrets don’t seem to care because the peck about in the shallow tide pools without much concern for human. Also, there were always a dozen or more kite surfers in sight. A 25-30mpg wind gives a wild ride. The strongest of them could heel hard into the wind, gathering their strength to leap some ten feet into and over the waves. The stronger ones could reverse field and sail back into the wind to prepare for the next downwind run. It is the beginning of a long weekend, and the beach is as clean and wild as it will be for days.
What is the physical experience of living near the beach? (Not quite what you would think if you have been looking at travel posters from Rio de Janeiro)
There is a new world of physical experiences for those who have spent most of their mortal existence not far from the 42nd parallel in the northern hemisphere. In the so-called temperate zones of the northern hemisphere the southern and northern weather systems compete and shift the weather from cold to warm and even hot, for a short time. The winter days are short and the summer days long. Temperatures may range over the year from 95degrees for a few days in the summer to long stretches below zero in the winter.
Walking east on the beach, into the wind, at about 8:00am on an overcast day
Not so here on the equator.
Actually we are a degree or two above or below the equator but the difference is too small to notice. By the way, that is the – 0th parallel, 42 degrees away from home. Instead of large shifts in the temperature and number of hours of daylight, there about 12 hours of daylight and 12 of darkness each day, every day of the year. Some sensitive souls seem to find a few minutes difference from one solstice to another, but 12 hours of sun is pretty much guaranteed — and what a sun it is! Dawn is about 5:30 to 6:00 am and comes rapidly. By 7:00 there is a strong sun, by 8:00 it is bright and by 9:00 the sun drops on your head like a hammer. The heat is mitigated by the prevailing winds at the beach, but deeper in the city you are on your own with the noonday sun. When it is at a peak, you may remember the old British song about “Mad dogs and Englishmen,” who are the only ones odd enough to go about in midday.
Here it is the laborers and people in service positions who have to keep moving about in the sun. The middle class is air-conditioned and indoors, but the young man delivering 50-liter water bottle or tank of propane gas on a bicycle is on the street.
Being near the beach is wonderful for an early riser. I can stretch and practice yoga on the (small) balcony from 6:00 to about 7:30 when it becomes a bit too sunny in the reflected heat of the ceramic balcony tiles to be pleasant. Then a walk on the beach – so far, to the east into the rising sun in the morning and to the west, into the setting sun. The ocean air (maresia) coats your glasses and your lips with a thin film of salt. The firm sand surface is soft enough to walk on barefoot but it doesn’t hold you down like the light, fluffy sand in the travel posters. Walking is easy and comfortable. Jogging, bicycle riding, dog walking and various physical disciplines (including soccer) are native to this beach.
Surf casting is popular in the early morning and evening
But on the beach you walk leaning into the wind, which is relentless at 25 or so miles an hour. The sun drops suddenly at about 6:00 pm as if someone had flipped a light switch. By then you have had your 12 hours of sun, most of it between 80 and 90 degrees. With the darkness, the temperature may drop to about 70-85 degrees… or it may not.
Physically, you are almost always comfortable in shorts and your wardrobe is,well, basic .. unless you have to go to town, or appear on the evening news where an uncomfortable black suit seems to be the style for local announcers (90 degrees and all). However, most of all, it is the suddenness and intensity of the sun and the constancy of the temperature that creates the world of physical sensations that are so different from the “temperate” climates. It is not that all this is exotic or so much more appealing, but that the body and the spirit react differently. The noonday sun drives you inside just as the northern winter does.
The sunrises and sunsets are lustrous if you catch them at about 6:00am and 5:30pm.
Eco beachcomber at sunset, Sao Luis city at upper left
What is Sao Luis like?
This may sound more exotic than it is, even though I’m writing from the balcony of a small apartment near the beach in Sao Luis (Maranhao).
Like much of Sao Luis, an underserved and infrastructure-poor state capital in the far northeast of Brasil, the beach area is a bit rough-cut. This particular apartment is not quite ready for guests (unless they are really good friends), but it has the charm of my graduate school days and my first years of travel in Europe. It is refreshing to do your laundry in the shower and perform the agitate/rinse cycle by stomping on the freshly soaped clothes.
Old fashioned home laundry is generally not a problem because things dry in a hurry (some are on a drying rack next to me on the balcony), and because your normal wardrobe is a pair of shorts and sandals. Sandals can come in rubber flip-flops or leather, and you can wear a shirt if you insist, but the wardrobe is pretty basic.
Besides, we are moving later this month to an apartment with a washing machine.
When we go to the most interesting part of the city – the old historic city center — to meet with culture officials bureaucrats or for the festivals I wear long pants ….. reluctantly… and only then because (1) the city/state offices won’t let you in if you are in shorts, or (2) within the physical culture of Brazil it is appreciated if older guys with long white legs bow to public aesthetics and cover up a bit.
More at the beach
The beach at peak times is nice enough, but this is not place for soft bossa nova music lilting The Girl from Ipanema in your ear. That is Rio, and only in the travel advertisements. What the ads don’t show is that people on the beach in Rio carry only what they can carry (to avoid theft), avoid the nighttime, and have bodies pretty much like you and me. The breathtaking bodies of popular image are there in a dizzying way, but we see them mostly because the camera are not pointed at the middle-aged couple with stomachs and tiny bathing suits just next to you.
Here, in Sao Luis, the bathing suits are bigger than the Rio “dental floss” (fia dental) suits, and the diversity of bodies is pretty much representative of the human race in general.
Though this not Rio or any other travel poster beach, the early morning and evening here are remarkable in their own way.
This is not because the beach is idyllic and romantic, but because this is a public beach with all the life and diversity you expect in a busy place. There are walkers/runners/joggers from some of the more elegant apartments nearby, and there are the morning maintenance crews, fishermen, yogis, dog walkers and early morning vendors.
Like the rest of Sao Luis, it is a bit ragged.
Crowd on the “Dia dos Criancas,” a national holiday dedicated to children.
In the morning you may see:
A dozen or more large ships waiting offshore for a berthing place at the city dock
A kite surfer, in the background is one of the dozen or more large ships waiting to enter the Sao Luis docks
Guys with shovels trying to move the beach back to the water to uncover the restaurant tables that are gradually sinking into the sand
A horseman exercising this mount along the beach, or perhaps he is just commuting.
A few children already in the water
Eco-friendly walkers picking up the trash washed on the beach (we are averaging about three bags a day). Others notice this peculiarity and once someone brought us her some trash our bag. She handed the plastic bottle to us and remarked that “when people hurt the environment like this, they hurt themselves.”
Philosophers and artists and poets are at home in Sao Luis, and sometimes they are out in the morning … and sometimes picking up plastic bottles.
On the other hand, a more practical philosopher stopped by to point out that “You ought to wear gloves.”
A local cultural note: the most common beach trash (except from endless coconuts left by the consumers of “coconut water”), are the plastic bags that vendors use to sel shrimp and nuts, little plastic cups, water bottles, and little bottle of bleach. The last takes a bit of explanation: my fashion advisor explains that Brazilian women use the bleach to lighten the hair on their bodies and legs. You do it at the beach, of course, so you can wash it off in the surf. You wear little rubber gloves while you are bleaching and soaping, and these sometimes join the beach detritus.
Another morning beach inhabitant
And, of course, there are various creatures that wash up on the beach and try to find their way back.
Jelly fish, like a little baloon on the beach.
Mid-day and peak times are a little less appealing (see “Dia dos Criancas” photo above). There are crowds and usual beach behavior, of course. And not all of us love the beach life. Three hours at the beach is a long day, or two days, it seems. The reason it seems so long is that you cannot read or converse or sleep. There is a constant trail of vendors selling sunglasses, nuts, roasted cheese, beach towels, shrimp, huge bags of crabs, and curiosities of all sorts (not to mention the caricaturists and artists with jewelry and paintings).
So much for reading and dozing in the sun.
This complex social and economic system is compounded by the fact the beach is lined with restaurants. Each has tables and umbrellas where you can sit and graze your way through greater and lesser meals, the water from green coconuts (or a whole coconut, for that matter), drinks of all sorts, and even gargantuan plates of fish.
Uniformed city beach workers clearing debris in the morning. These are the real heroes of beach — without them it would be uninhabitable after a few days.
The beaches are democratic and open to everyone, but an umbrella comes at the price of incessant commercial attention. Seasoned Brazilian beach-goers seem to welcome this as part of the buffet of being on the sand – conversations must be limited to the time between vendors and waiters, so it is best if you have an attention deficit disorder.
The mornings and evening are non-commercial and these are the times when the older beach people and joggers are out. One morning we even saw and heard a large cohort of coast guard or firefighters running in cadence and shouting.
For someone who did not grow up near the sea, the moods of the beach are a revelation. There are high tides in the morning and evening. The beach is long and flat so the water comes up high on shore. This creates an interesting beach. It is generally moist and washing by the surf all day — except for the dunes along the roadside where the restaurants are. This means that the sand is somewhat more packed and solid so you can comfortably ride bicycles, vendors can push carts, you can exercise your all-terrain-vehicle … or your horse. Walkers and joggers have a forgiving surface without sinking into sand. For extra resistance they walk in the water and do a sort of water-aerobic walking/jogging.
These “moon rocks” are at the end of our usual morning walk. They are treacherously sharp with encrusted mussel shells. A bit offshore they are a favorite place for surf casting.
It has moods by time of day as well. In the morning the local walkers and joggers are out in large numbers. Families start to appear by early mid-morning, and the beach cleaners are usually finished by then. The most energetic of them have wheelbarrows and shovels and try to take the loose sand from the restaurants (where some of the tables are gradually submerging) and move part of the dunes back to the beach. This goes on every morning. When the winds are high some of the tables are unusable because the sand is too deep for a chair. It has a slightly “Planet of the Apes” feel where nature takes over from the annoying and invasive human species.
The one thing nature cannot do is easily dispose of the plastic waste that people leave on the beach – the hired beachcombers do that in front of each restaurant, and there is a crew that cleans the rest of the beach periodically.
The winds and tide move the beach toward the restaurants and the dunes at the left. He is moving the beach back. The truck and front-end loader at the rear are picking up the accumulated debris. The head covering is a concession to the sun, which is extremely penetrating even at 8:00 am.
Recently there have been other moods. When there is a firm beach and a section of dry sand, the fine sand drifts over the packed surface in waves and streams, skimming along the beach.
Even more beautiful are the small pools that gather during the higher tide washes but stay as little ponds. They are adored by children who use them as little play pools. They are adored by photographers by early morning and late afternoon light because they catch the light and create the effect of acres of small lakes reflecting the colors of sunrise and sunset.
This creation of shallow tide pools echoes in miniature the immense dunes of Lencois to the north where hundreds acres of dune landscape are preserved in a series of parks. In Lencois, rainwater fills hundreds of small lakes that can be used for swimming. The dunes are ideal for diving, rolling down the incline into the water (sliding with your body), or using to “write” with your feet a philosophical or trivia message (“UWM,” has appeared, but then so has “I am confused.” These messages were done, I think, by different groups).
The flat, transient tidal pools that swirl and eddy at high tide. This attracts the egrets and terns who find lunch in the tiny wildlife in the pools.
The notion of “popular” beach is important in Brazil. It means both “public” and “for the people.” The wealthier have their own properties and zones of less accessible beaches, but the popular beaches are democratic and diverse. In Sao Luis they don’t seem as risky as those in Rio often are, with petty criminals and young people coming to the beach to snatch up whatever is left loose. People in Sao Luis do not carry much to the beach either, but during the daylight hours the beach is active, democratic, and safe. The elite are not here, for the most part. But the restaurants are moderate to a bit more expensive, several have live music, and a few are famous for the musical talent they have on weekends. Further down the beach, they say, is Sao Luis’ most famous “roots reggae” bar, which they say is for a “vibrant young crowd.” We haven’t been there yet, and may wait until we have some “vibrant young” guests visiting us.
This is a democratic beach with soccer games everywhere. In the foreground you can see the light sand skimming over the packed beach surface that makes this such a good place for pick-up soccer games. Some groups bring goal posts and nets.
By the way, a last comment on the bossa nova mystique of the Brazilian beach. In nearly three weeks I have not heard the One Note Samba or Girl from Ipanema once – not once. I have heard a Pink Floyd cover band with a dismal version of “Another Brick in the Wall,” Abba and the BG’s, popular songs that all sound pretty much alike, and occasional rock/folk groups. There have been nights of major talent, but that is at the end of the beach where there is a small amphitheater and stage.
When you visit here, bring your own sound track. And while you are at it, bring plenty of sunscreen, a silly beach hat (the safari-type with a neck cover is ideal for northern skin), and perhaps your surf board or kite-surfing rig (see below).
Kite surfer checking his equipment before going out. As in most sports there is a specialist knowledge — he explained that the particular place where he was standing had a particular wind pattern caused by the dunes.
Sao Paulo is a busy, highly concentrated city with constant traffic and endless high-rise apartments. In the outskirts of the city there are underserved neighborhoods with tenuous infrastructure, struggling families and serious water problems.
Unlike many American cities where the suburbs ring the center urban area and tend to isolate themselves from the central city, Sao Paulo’s situation is just the reverse. Even now Brazil’s seemingly inexhaustible water supplies are scarce in the suburbs and the city’s program for getting more water to them is stalled In some neighborhoods there may be only two or three hours of water a day and this may, or may not, correspond to times when people are able to be home. (I’ll post more about this later).
Much of my walking and feet-on-the-ground experience is in a more central part of the city where the infrastructure is generally good and the sidewalks walkable, if not very even. It is still safer to keep your attention on the sidewalk rather than higher up — you can walk fairly comfortably but with concentration.
On these walks you see an increasing number of bicyclists, shoppers, commercial businesses, dog walkers, and schools for suburban young people. The amount of privilege varies from one street to another and the disparities of Brazilian economic and social life are almost always visible.
In the midst of this we made a remarkable discovery on one such walk. There are always unusual species in fairly expected places — small decorative plantings outside apartment buildings and in the park. But we are also discovering an unusual form of urban gardening with “exotic flowers” in unexpected places.
This is an example of a flower that seems to be an iris, but has tigerish center blossoms that are unusual. Having grown up in in a place where there were two kinds — white and blue — these tiny irises are a revelation.
These blossoms are not exactly on the street, but in a botanical section of Ibirapuera Park.
The orchids below are different, though. They are “planted” on a street so busy that drivers can scarcely see them and pedestrians may not think to look up to see them.
These orchids are placed in packets of moss attached to trees and are obviously cultivated. This is not just one tree, but there are dozens along this street. Like all the streets in this neighborhood it is named after a Brazilian bird. This one is called Inhambu, named after a brownish ground bird that no longer has any habitat here.
Actually the orchids do not have a natural habitat here either, but there seem to be urban gardeners who care for them. Astonishingly, the flowers seem to reach maturity safely on these busy streets.
An urban planting on a busy street — orchids placed in a moss packet attached to a tree
Another tree orchid on Inhambu street in Sao Paulo
City orchids
Orchids are not the only plantings. This huge staghorn fern also grows in mossy packets attached to trees. The size suggests that this one has been here for some time.
There are other unexpected urban pleasures. There is a street in this area named after the bird called Bem-te-vi. The name mimics the cry of the bird who calls (in Portuguese) “Bem-te-vi,” “good to see you.
On my balcony this morning, and yesterday as well, a Bem-te-vi appeared. We watched each for some time. It is about the size of a large North American robin or smallish pigeon, but elegantly gray-brown with two white strips along its crown and a brilliant yellow and white belly. When it flies it flashes the yellow-white which also spreads across the underside of its wings.
Somehow it finds me on this rail on the 9th floor among hundreds of city apartments.
This is not as mystical as the morning three eagles joined me at the edge of a Wisconsin lake, but it is an unexpected blessing among the high-rises which, for a moment, transforms the urban morning.
On this same balcony there is also a hummingbird nest. At the moment it does not seem to have a tenant. In the past the nest was occupied and I could watch the parent bird feeding the young. One day I watched one of the young birds perch precariously on a small branch. It teetered and shivered for some time, and then flew away. I hope one of them will come back to nest.
This last orchid is a special favorite
City orchids are not far from Ibirapuera Park along the street named after the Inhambu bird.
January, 2016 Maranhao (Sao Luis, Santa Inez, Pindaré)
Alert: The first section on my “photo series” is a bit grumpy and personal. The second section on the real purpose of the trip is a bit more interesting. You can also just skip through the photos and captions. The last section — a “desultory discourse” is an explanation of our actual goals in the trip and the reasons we are doing this.
My photo series on Brazilian (Maranhao) bus stops
Ever since our extended bus trips to Minas Gerais in 2008 to visit the home of the baroque artist Aleijardinho, we have often found ourselves on Brazilian buses. That is, European-built buses run by various bus enterprises. The most comfortable are the MarcoPolo buses by Mercedes. The least confortable are the modest, shorter-haul buses that sometimes reach the capital, but often do not because of leaky radiators and bald tires.
These are the buses you get when you arrive too late for the MarcoPolo. I know… I’ve tested this over and over.
Some of the Maranhão roads are unforgiving, in spite of the state signs bragging about “more asphalt for you.” The “you” seems to be the transit interchanges and roads in main arteries of the city. This often does not include neighborhoods where roads, water and security are already problem.
But the federal highway to the south from the capital is wide and fast, until you run out of decent road and bobble back and forth in the bus, avoiding potholes and other vehicles.
You know you are back in the capital when you see Pedreiras, the state penitentiary, then the airport, and finally the bus station. By then you are in São Luis, which looked a bit seedy a few days ago and now looks like home.
The first time through this area I was enchanted by the bus stops with their barbeque stands, vendors of street food, and men who peel the tough Brazilian oranges for you. Standing at Itapecaru-Mirim station, bracing myself to brave the restroom, I thought that I should do a photo set.
Itapecuru-Mirim bus station. Brazilian oranges are sweet, but have tough skins. They need to be peeled with a knife. This man is one of many who work the streets and public places peeling oranges for passers-by.
In the wheelbarrow are oranges, with the peeled ones below. When you purchase one, he opens he cuts off the top for you.
I was wrong about two things: The first was thinking that I wouldn’t see Itapecaru-Mirim again. The second was a vague assumption that I would have my cameras with me.
The second assumption evaporated when we arrived near the station. I felt for the cameras and found that the bag under my legs was strangely light. Under my legs!
During the night when everyone slept, someone slipped into my bag and lifted all the gear. It seems premeditated because someone got on outside the Sao Luis bus station (outside the security cameras and without having to show proper identification), and got off a hundred yards before our stop (slipping away in the dark while all the passengers were asleep).
The police were solicitous, admonishing us to be more careful next time.
We stayed in the little community in a bus station pousada, waiting for the manager to sweep the hundreds of black beetles out of the room. The next morning we visited a police station whose waiting room/main office was two chairs, no telephone, and not a trace of paper — not even a calendar. There was, however, an officer who was busy sweeping out black beetles.
Itapecuru-Mirim bus station ….. between buses
The local police were also solicitous, also admonishing us that travel in risky at night.
Simone has been having a dialogue with the management of the bus company. The side of the conversation, it turns is, in turns, solicitous and legalistic. Our side of the discussion has a touch of moral outrage along with suggestions for proper responsibility for their passengers.
It hasn’t been a very productive conversation.
Anyway, the bus station photo project has slowed down a bit.
Mountains of luggage and doubtful food in restaurants like this are common. This station is better than some, but only the unwary and desperate actually eat there.
Santa Inez, known in English as Saint Agnes (of the lamb) is the patron saint of the city of the same name.
The images of Santa Inez are from the patron saint and mother church of the city. It is official Catholicism, centered in the mother church (matriz) of the city of Santa Inez (Saint Agnes).
You may want to compare this imagery and representation with the Afro-Brazilian imagery below.
In this house of “Candominas” the traditions and lineages of both Candomblé and Tambor de Minas coexist. This is Oxum, the orixá of fresh water.
Iansá (Yansa), orixá of tempest, and sometimes death. She is associated with Saint Barbara in the Catholic hagiography. Iansá is featured in her wilder aspect in the Codo celebration of two female entities in an earier post0
The region around Santa Inez has a rich tradition of olarias. These are pottery workshops. The same name (olaria) is used for the brick and tile factories in the area. this man threw a pot for us — it took about 15 minutes from mixing the clay mass to a finished form
Not a five-star hotel. The slated roof is the traditional style to direct the heat upward. The walls to not reach the roof but are open for air to circulate. This keeps you in touch with your neighbor in the next room. For the fussy, the shower and toilet are down the hall, in a sort of courtyard with the cats and the laundry. At the end of a day in the field this is all a welcome sight.
The old Pindaré sugar cane mill has been inactive for decades and is now used for storage of materials for the Saint John celebration, which used a giant ox/boi. For the less romantic it is a dumping place for trash; for the more romantic, it is a gathering place for loose donkeys and dogs. It can be a lively place, though not this night. Believe it or not, the building at the end is the city Office of Health (well placed, actually).
The street in front the pousada. It is a short connecting street/alley between the building on the right and the old sugar cane mill on the left. The cane mill was built and labored by slaves. It is now vacant and used to store artifacts from the Sáo Joáo/Saint John celebration in the spring
A devotee of one of the groups that gathered in this celebration which lasted several days.
Male and female celebrants wear elaborate clothing, in spite of the heat. Ceremonies are held late in the night when the 90ish heat of the day drops to 80ish. These wide skirts swirl as they dance, usually for hours.
Burning of incense
Some may be reminded of dervish dancing which also used twirling movements for meditation and trance. This macumba twirling is faster and episodic, following the percussion rhythms of a set of drums played by rotating groups of batazeiros.
The twirling is often accompanied by singing and other vocalizations.
Devotee dancing in the distinctive counterclockwise twirling motion of this practice. This movement is associated with altered mental states and spiritual experience. The movement are more rapid and episodic than dervish dancing in the Afghan/Turkish tradition.
Devotee, Pindaré celebration
Devotee of one of the several groups represented
This is a typical Maranhão celebration of the dance, Tambor da Crioula. It is always performed by women with male percussionists playing three drums. The T-shirts show that this is a promessa, here honoring the one-year anniversary of a group member. Promessas are also used for honoring a saint for blessings received (often recovery from an illness).
Tambor da Crioula dancer. She is also a caixeira (drummer) and is shown in photos of the São Gonçalo/Espirito Santo celebration in an earlier post
Desultory Discourse: The Real Point of the Trip
Why would we be doing this? We are not anthropologists of the old school who relish the excitement of research on remote peoples. We are a retired political scientists and a dancer/professor.
We are really in the midst of what we think may be two books. The first is on women in “popular” (traditional) culture in Maranhão. The second is based on the festival known as the Bumba-meu-boi, but has broadened to include connection of that practice with other religious and cultural practices in Maranhão. The BmB in our work is in the center of a network practices and social relations that still exist in the interior of Maranhão. Much of this network has been changed in the capital city, but the interior maintains much of its cultural density and richness.
That is why we keep going there.
The key events were a several-day-long celebration of African-Brazilian practice. This includes elements of Candomblé, Tereco, Tambor de Minas, and Umbanda. Many of these groups gathered in Pindaré and we were there to film and photograph they, to interview some of the leaders where possible, and to try to understand more of this intricate cultural matrix. It sometimes has surface elements of Catholicism, but is in fact an alternative symbolic universe of entities and practices that coopt many diverse elements.
This event connected at the nexus of our two imaginary books – women are powerful in these religious practices and many of the practitioners are also involved in the Bumba-meu-boi.
Our key interview was with the mae de santos (mother of saints) who is spiritual head of an Umbanda house. She is a leading religious figure in the area. In her biography, she traversed a youth in an evangelical church, but was ejected for having visions (the wrong ones). She drifted toward alternative practices and eventually founded her own house of syncretic practices.
We were there to learn about the remarkable charisma, spiritual authority, and community responsibility of women such as this.
She was a central figure in the spiritual celebration, but shared the authority and guidance with others (including her own mae pequena – “little mother” — who is the second in command of her spiritual house. A sign that the little mother was still on the path was that she conducted liturgies and chants in Portuguese, rather than Yoruba, one of the African languages often used in Afro-Brazilian practice.
One of the challenges is that each of these practices has its own combination of symbols and forms for worship and celebration. It is not very productive to take a “comparative religion” point of view because the practices and entities do not decode directly into Western practices. There are similarities, but the religions are not based on a text, a normative priesthood and catechism, or written tradition. They are transmitted through apprenticeship and practice, through dance and songs, and through oral transmission. This gives them continuity as well as flexibility (see Yvonne Daniel, Dancing Wisdom). In Maranhão there are strong traditions, but no “orthodoxy” that is easily codified. In fact, researchers in Afro-Brazilian practice have often reported their research analysis provided a useful codification for practitioners – the anthropologists became active participants in codifying their practice.
Our own research is (1) trying to work out the expanding role of women in cultura popular of Maranhão, and (2) finding a way to analyze and represent the way the Bumba-meu-boi celebration fits in the cultural matrix of heritage practice in Maranhão.
The front entrance of the Sau Paulo Museum of Art (MASP) on the Avenida Paulista. The roof above is actually the floor of the upper galleries It seems to be supported in part by the pillars (under construction) in the back.
A spiritual journey in the metro
This begins with a spiritual tour of the metro, one of my favorite metros in the world.
The trip begins with the experience of being an older metro rider. It goes on a trip to various metro stations that sound like a cheerful pilgrimage beginning with the saint of lost causes and ending in Consolation.
I’ll explain that in a minute, but first …
“Maturity “ has some advantages in this society which has institutionalized “preferential access” for seniors, pregnant women, and people with small children. The icon for a senior (idosa) is a cane, and whenever I carry my hiking stick people flutter out of the especially-designated seats (unless they are more idosa than I). I can also flash any official looking document showing my age on it and they let me ride the metro free.
The same happens in customer lines in stores, for airline boarding, and a myriad other situations where you find yourself saying “ Thank you, but I think I can make it” (and hoping you can).
The real point this particular day was to get to the Sao Paulo Museum of Art (MASP). The trip begins with a spiritual tour through the stations of the metro. Many of them are named for indigenous figures and places, but many sound like a trek through Milton’s Paradise Lost.
The spiritual tour to the Sao Paulo Art Museum (MASP).
The main metro line for us that day was from Jabaquara to Tucuruvi, beginning at Sao Judas. This seems to be Sao Judas Tadeu who is the patron saint of desperation and lost causes. It is humbling, but appropriate, to start your journey with the patron saint who understands Sao Paulo traffic.
Actually the next stop earlier is Conception (Conceicao). This a obviously a good place to begin, but who has time for that on the metro.
On some days I would rather start with my favorite patron saint, Santo Expedito. He is also a patron for lost causes and tough times, but as the name implies (expedite!), he is the saint for getting things done. Now.
Santo Expedito should be the patron saint of Sao Paulo which is the largest, busiest, and most hectic of Brazilian cities. Getting things done in a hurry — the specialty of Santo Expedito — is the mirage of city traffic here.
Unfortunately, though, this expeditious saint does not have his own metro station
Along the way are stops for “Health”(Saude), Paradise (Paraiso) with a few others of less mystical meaning. I think you transfer at Paradise to get to the museum, but if you miss it you end up at the stop named Consolacao (Consolation). This makes some cosmic sense, but I didn’t get there until later in the day.
The reverse trip takes you back toward Jabaquara to your home base of Sao Judas
A wrong connection will get you to places that actually sound like places — e.g, Vila Madalena, which I fantasize might be named after Mary Magdalen. It seems to have the same origin in the Hebrew name of Mary of Magdala and is the root for Madeline and many related names. On the Sao Paulo metro the biblical origin seems appropriate.
Another wrong stop will put you in Anhangabau, one of the many areas given indigenous names. It’s a lovely place to be, but you may want call on the patron saint of lost causes to get you home.
Another spiritual option is to take the advanced yoga line to Liberation (Liberdade). However, as yogis know, this is a long trip and it takes years of practice to get your body and spirit there at the same time.
The Museum
MASP, Museum of Art of Sao Paulo, this day had an exhibition of “French Art: From Delalcroix to Cezanne.” What was unique about it is that it was based on the collection from MASP and not a compilation of pieces from other museums and collections.
From this exhibition format you could clearly see that MASP started late in acquiring art work. What was unusual was the way the exhibition documented the process and politics of that acquisition period.
The museum opened its documents from the period of acquisition (beginning after World War II and running headlong into the art markets during the 1950s). They displayed letters to and from art dealers, lists of contributors for some of the acquisitions, and even the letter of one representative insisting that they would buy a fairly insignificant Manet (a vanity portrait of a lion hunter) if they were given access to more interesting work by other French artists.
One name was prominent above all others — Assis Chateaubriand. He was the benefactor and a major founder of MASP. He became what they like to call a “media mogul” in the 1950s and for two or three decades was the most powerful owner of media in the country. He is understood to have been a pivotal force in bringing television to Brazilian.
In the period just after World War II much European art was relatively available as Europe entered its recovery. Chateaubriand was able to lead acquisition efforts through various agencies (notably an art dealer named Knoedel in New York). He began to populate the new museum with art pieces by major French impressionists and others. As a powerful force in media and politics, Chateaubriand was also able to get contributions from other wealthy Brazilians. There are legends about how he used his information and media power to encourage other wealthy Brazilians and public figures to contribute to his art projects.
Documents from the files of MASP show the correspondence of the museum’s agents with art dealers. They give insight into the acquisition struggle and even list, for some pieces, the amount of money each contributor gave.
Chateaubriand was by far the greatest contributor.
His alleged media hegemony continued until about 1960, after which his health failed, and his dissipating media empire was replaced by the current media giant O Globo.
The unusual format of the exhibition had some other surprises.
There are richer collections of Renoir in other museums, but one piece in this collection has a unique and sad story.
“Pink and Blue” – the Cohen Sisters of d’Anvers, 1881 is a shimmering, luminous, dual portrait. The two Cohen sisters are shown standing in sparkling dresses, one in pink and the other in blue. Alongside the painting is a transport list to Auschwitz showing the name of one of the Cohen sisters (the one in blue). There was no record of her being seen again.
According to the story, the list was given to Renoir by the niece of the girl in blue, perhaps the daughter of the younger girl on the left.
“Pink and Blue” from 1881 by Renoir is of the Cohen Sisters of d’Anvers. Next to the painting is a transport list from France to Auschwitz showing the name of the girl on the right who was lost in the Holocaust.
In another setting there is a letter from an agent of Chateaubriand agreeing to buy a minor Manet (a portrait of a thuggish man with a large gun and a dead lion – probably painted as a vanity portrait). The letter clarifies that they are willing to buy this dullish piece only to insist on buying the better pieces of the dealer – by Braque and others.
Modigliani and Rivera. The display had other unusual documentation — such as a letter from Diego Rivera describing his portrait session with Modigliani.
Many international artists visited Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo in Mexico City during the peak of their artistic and political influence. At some point in this period they were leaders in the Mexican left and friends of the Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky who was in exile from Russia. There are several films and books about this period that are based on their relationship with Trotsky (which lasted until 1940 when Trotsky was killed by a Stalinist assassin (in Coyoacan, now a suburb of Mexico City).
The relationship of Rivera and Frida Kalho with these political events made them a major attraction for artists and celebrities from abroad. Modigliani was one of the visitors and he made an unusual portrait of Rivera that is in the collection of MASP in Sao Paulo
An easily recognizable Modigliani in this portrait of Lunia Czeccwska (perhaps Czechowska), 1918
Modigliani’s portrait of Diego Rivera is much different from his earlier style. The MASP exhibit includes a letter from Rivera describing the portrait session
Cezanne and the American abolitionists. In the late 1860s Cezanne painted a picture of a black slave leaning on a white object that evokes a bale of cotton. Nearby the museum was displayed an image from 1863 in the United States — a famous photo by McPherson & Oliver of a “slave with scourged back.” The photo appeared in Harper’s magazine depicting a man known as “Gordon” with a brutally scarred back. The photo became an important visual image in the fight against slavery in the United States and was widely circulated in Europe.
Cezanne almost certainly knew of the McPherson & Oliver photo it is plausible that he used it as inspiration for his painting.
Just for reference:
Brazil abolished slavery in 1888 (25 years after the U.S.)
The American Emancipation Proclamation was 1863. The following year brought the 13th Constitutional amendment which formally institutionalized the abolition of slavery.
Serfdom was abolished in Russia in 1861
A day of free admission brings an large and diverse crowd to the museum. This was one of those days and the museum was crowded with young students in uniforms identifying their schools. One group of about ten young people recognized that I was probably not from around there and gathered around me, wondering if I would speak English with them. They were a bit disappointed to find out that Simone was from Sao Paulo and that I spoke Portuguese (more or less). To appease their disappointment, I spoke “real” English with them for a few minutes until their teacher ushered them along to the next Manet (the dull one with the lion hunter, I think).
I often marvel at the openness and friendliness of Brazilians and wonder if a similar group of American students would chase down a foreigner in a museum to just try their language skills.
We have even had this experience in the market where a man and woman stopped us to tell us that we were an “interesting couple” and wondered where we were from — again being curious about a tall gringo and a Paulistana (woman from Sao Paulo) wandering about buying mangoes, squeezing papayas, and looking for tofu (see earlier post).
The experience with Brazilian students reminds me of my years traveling in the former East Germany, just at the time it ceased to be the socialist German Democratic Republic and became part of unified Germany. Travel was open by 1992/1993, but it was still a novelty to find an American “class enemy” wandering around. It was even stranger to them to find one who spoke German. Even though the East Germans could see American television series that were syndicated and broadcast from West Germany, their second language was usually Russian and not English. So actually talking to an American was a novelty.
Since I was sponsored by the Fulbright Foundation and gave a number of lectures and talks around Germany, I was a bit of a curiosity. In the East German case they were not at all sure they could talk to me — open discussion was not the norm even among good friends and family because the society was penetrated by thousands upon thousands of informants. When I asked one group of schoolteachers why they were so reserved around me, one told me I was like a person from Mars. They had heard for years about the militarist, fascist, West and they were surprised that I seemed so, well, normal. Finding such a person walking around loose was unusual for them — just as I apparently was to the Brazilian school kids.
Ibirapuera Park, September 2015 (around the Spring Equinox in the Southern Hemisphere)
Just outside Ibirapuera Park, juggling in traffic
A refuge in the middle of the city, Ibirapuera Park
Ibirapuera Park is the 2nd largest in the city and was inaugurated in 1954 with architecture by Oskar Neimeyer, the founding architect of the Brazilian capital of Brasilia (founded in the 1960s).
It is my favorite refuge in the city with about 2 square kilometers of space. It is free, democratic, and quiet (except for the determined weekend joggers, soccer players, crammed playgrounds, busy exercise course, and the new bicycle rental section just outside). In years past you had to bring your own bicycle — and most still do. But urban bicycle rentals have caught on here and now make the park more accessible to day riders.
Just outside the middle reaches of the park is the memorial to the Bandeirantes, the explorers and adventurers who penetrated the interior of Brazil. They opened territory and took slaves. One of the main thoroughfares in Sao Paolo bears the name Bandeirantes in their honor, a gigantic statue near the park memorializes them. The statue is so rich in historical ambiguity, embarrassment and pride that I’ll talk about in another post.
Seringuera (rubber) tree — your living room rubber plant might look like this if you let it grow for a century or two.
This auditorium was designed by Oskar Niemeyer, the architect of Brasilia.
Even the bathrooms are not immune from Sao Paulo’s ubiquitous wall
Another public bathroom in the park. This one is not far from Neimeyer’s art museum, but much of the park is an art project.
This mural seems to invoke both indigenous peoples but also a kind of playfulness in the smaller face to the center-left. On this day there were several young people sitting in front of the mural, just looking.Trees in Ibirapuera Park
When trees are taken down they often become benches or other artistic installations.
A bench from an old tree
There is a large cormorant population in the park. This was the first time I have been able to watch cormorants up close. Beautiful as they are in the air and water, they are grumpy and territorial where they roost. They seem to be the only natural predator for the countless fish (mostly perch and carp, I think) in the park’s lakes.
Yes, there are black swans here
Suffering through a college course in logic I recall the famous syllogism that goes: “All swans are white, this is a swan, therefore it is white.” This was contrasted with the false syllogism: “All swans are white, this bird is white, therefore it is a swan.” I think a major point was that axiomatic statements were not empirical ones that were principle verifiable by observation. But they did mention that only one black swan was enough to invalidate the proposition. So, decades later I find that all the swans in Ibirapuera Park are black.
I also remember vaguely that in England all swans are white and are the property of the Queen. In Ibirapuera Park they are black and not the property of anyone.
These probably have a name, but seem to my untrained eye to be in the azalea/rhododendron family
A tiny flower found on small bushes all around here, as if they were nothing special
This flower seems similar to the previous one, but a modest horticultural background in the midwestern United States doesn’t give you much to go on here. You only see these small flowers if you are ambling off the paved part of the park
There are large bushes (or small trees) filled with these. Technically the spring equinox in the southern hemisphere is about now (September), but with temperatures in the 90’s everything is blooming furiously . These these seem to be at the end of their cycle.
The 34 degree Celsius temperature outside the park works out to about 93 degrees Fahrenheit. This was the beginning of the Sao Paulo spring.
It usually doesn’t get much warmer than this in the summer, which includes the winter holidays as they are celebrated in the northern hemisphere.
It takes real dedication for Santa Claus (Pai Noel) to appear in full dress and beard in weather about like this.
Practicing yoga in the city has some special features, not the least of which is looking down from the 9th floor to the concrete patio below, or up to the Congonhas Airport flight lanes which cast a shadow on my practice balcony.
From our apartment in Sao Paulo. This national flight is on a descent into Congonhas Airport. Flights are suspended from about 11:00 pm to 6:00 am so that this area of the city (called Moema) can sleep. This was taken while practicing on the balcony.
The look down is lovely, and adds a bit of extra motivation to not lean too heavily on the balcony rail.
My studio and Brazilian yoga mat. It has a cheerful playschool feeling and tells me more or less where to put my hands.
The practice has to be modified a bit. Headstand and shoulder are a bit cramped and I don’t quite like the feeling of being upside down so high up. I’d like my head to be on the ground — the actual ground.
But there is no trouble doing a supported Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana, most standing postures supported on the rail, and a modified Chaturanga on the rail. Just don’t look down.
It is also a bit cramped for a floor practice. So I have an indoor space for wide-angle poses (seated and standing) and floor twists (Jathari Parivarttanasana and variations).
Supported Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana
In Sao Paulo there is support for Iyengar yoga, but travel through the city is a bit daunting. I haven’t found anyone in this area of the city that I might reach on foot, and the best-known Iyengar studio is about two hours away on foot, bus, metro, on foot again, and back.
Trikonasana precaria
A few years ago I found a teacher who had studied in Pune and had amalgamated some Iyengar concepts into his practice. It was helpful and he was a good sequencer, but the practice seemed like learning a dialect where all the pronunciations and movements were enough different to interfere with my own training. What is especially lacking is the sense of adaptive yoga and modifications for persons of varying condition and limitations. For that I especially miss my teachers at home.
But even though I miss the yoga at home, B.K.S always reminded us that yoga itself is a universal culture that we can carry with us anywhere.
A kiosk near downtown Sao Paulo. “Banca” here means a newsstand and “Caras” is a popular magazine that fawns on celebrities and royalty. It appears that you can buy it 24 hours a day.
Sao Paulo has remarkable tagger art. Two men – internationally known as Os Gemeos (The twins) – led the revolution in the city’s tagger tradition and made it into a unique art form. They even entered the contemporary modern art world. Not long ago Os Gemeos had a special showing at the Tate Modern art museum in London. The legacy is not theirs alone in the city, and there are many styles to be seen.
Here every available underpass wall and many buildings are beautifully — or at least elaborately — decorated. Much of the mural art is along the highways and freeway underpasses. This mural art is hard to see, though, unless you are In a car or bus driven by someone else. Traffic is too intense to gaze about, and the walls and underpasses are not pedestrian-friendly. Who knows how the artists got there, but the average citizen must have divided attention to enjoy the freeway art. To photograph it is even harder — most of these photos were taken from a car driven by someone else. Many interesting murals could not be photographed because of traffic. My favorite one is a long mural that appears to be a photo of historical scenes of city life. It goes on for many yards, but I couldn’t get a decent picture of this soccer-field sized photorealist mural because of traffic. This give me a reason — almost — to brave the traffic again to take another look.
A fairly conventional example of “preemptive” wall art. This one decorates one of the many children’s party centers to be found in middle-class neighborhoods. This painting probably preempted getting tagged with erotic pictures of aliens, or other popular themes.
Examples of the older, pre-Twins, wall art are still everywhere, but they tend to remain because they are not on prime viewing spaces.
Old fashioned tagging, before the art veered from cheerful vandalism to high culture
Wall art is so pervasive that many commercial buildings have special murals in the tagger form. People and businesses who don’t want their walls decorated late at night with science fiction, fantasy, revolutionary, or sexual art have found a solution – they hire a painter to decorate their wall with a theme of their choice (whales, ethereal little girls, pets, parrots and flowers have a following). Out of apparent artistic solidarity the street taggers normally leave such walls alone, even at the aesthetic cost of having wall after wall of butterflies and flowers on all the children’s party centers. The surfer shops and sports stores are also stylized with characters straight out of Japanese manga art — huge macho characters surfing in cosmic freefall or flexing cartoonishly powerful bodies (to alert you to what is avaiLable inside).
The most ingenuous, though, are the prime spaces on the endless walls that section off the many commuter thoroughfares. All the pictures below are from these astonishing drive-time art shows that commuters see everyday. I suppose they need to see them every day because each piece of art is in focus for only a few seconds, unless you are fortunate/unfortunate enough to be gridlocked in front of an interesting one.
Sao Paulo freeway art
A commuter’s view when traffic is not moving, which is much of the time)
A Sao Paulo bridge support along the freeway
A wall along the commuter highway. This might serve as well on a suburban party center
Cubist deconstruction is not part of the artistic vocabulary but the wall artist but the spatial volumes and colors have a fascinating diversity and originality
The sign in the lower may be the name of the artist. Now that this is a recognized are form the artists sign their work (and also hope for a Tate Modern exhibit like Os Gemeos).
Something to think about during drive time
In this wider perspective you can see how the art is concentrated on highway retaining walls. Sometimes the space above is also used for installation art.
Sao Paulo expressway/bridge underpass — a field of dusty and smogged flowers
Bridge underpass in Sao Paulo. The fish-eating monkey is something to think about during drive-time — if your life is not actually in danger at the moment.
This is the first post of our 2015-2016 research trip to Brazil. It is a somewhat rambling reflection on getting re-acquainted with Sao Paulo after an absence of two or three years. It talks about the things a visitor might see in the first week of experiencing the streets, walking the neighborhood, visiting the farmer’s markets, and puzzling out how to get across the street. Future post will be more focused on simpler topics, but this is my return to Sao Paulo and the first week on the ground.
Getting here: Milwaukee to Atlanta to Sao Paulo (September 2015)
After taking this route many times, this time was a remarkable but routine trip that involved three airports, two countries, and 20+ hours – remarkable in that all the camera gear arrived along with the rest of the clothing and such. No delays, no losses, and no real challenges except the 30 minute cab ride to get from the national airport (Congonhas) to the apartment where we are staying for September which is about 3 miles away. It would have been longer but we were able to show the Simone cab driver the shortcuts.
From our ninth floor balcony — flights land and depart from Congonhas airport. every 10 minutres or so from 6:00am to 11:00 am. This feels closer than it looks, though we can’t actually see the passengers through the window.
I normally expect to have to open the case of camera and video equipment, but this time the TSA only opened Simone’s bags (perhaps to check for the contraband diet supplements she brings to her parents). We normally allow extra time for airport security to skin-search me for weapons before they accept that I have steel shoulder replacements and not an assault rifle under my shirt. This search sometimes leads to conversations beginning with “cool,” or “did that hurt?” though normally they regard me as just another baggage to x-ray. Actually I did once have an airport TSA inspector say, roughly, “come over here honey so I can search you.” But I haven’t seen an inspector anywhere in the world with a sense of humor since — especially not in India where in the wake of the Mumbai terrorist attack a few years ago the airport inspectors searched my luggage to the bottom because they didn’t like the looks of my travel alarm.
In short, however, it was a normal trip.
Some useful things to re-learn about Sao Paulo driving: Don’t
Chicago has 2.7 million people. Sao Paulo city has about 11 million and the metro area about 19 million.
A view of Sao Paulo from the suburb of Moema. In the foreground are the low, fairly spacious properties houses of the past. They are gradually giving way to the high rises in the background. A major barrier to high rises here is the path of incoming airplane traffic.
View from our window in Sao Paulo. It takes a lot of boxes to house 20 million people.
Sao Paulo is roughly equivalent to several Chicago’s, with all the urban kindness and gentility that implies — including the fact that it has more arcane traffic management, street flooding, rough surfaces, and special driving rules. Here are some informal guidelines for the Sao Paulo driving culture:
First of all, be wealthy. The truly wealthy take helicopters to work to avoid ground traffic. The city reputedly has the highest per capital helicopter rate of any city (though I wonder who keeps statistics like this). There is at least one shopping mall with a heliport and is also inaccessible by foot. If you can’t fly or drive in you don’t need to be there. Take note, those of you who worry about the inequity of income distribution in the United States, and the ways an affluent elite tries to shelter itself from the rest. Some Brazilians trace this inequity to the era of colonialism, but observers of the U.S. know that a country can re-colonize itself even in the 21st An interesting example of building a modern moat around the castle — much like the medieval practice to keep out enemies, the poor and the plague — are the planned communities that include housing, schools, shopping and other services. All of this creates an enclosed space that emulates a modern village with medieval intentions. Readers of Camus’ Plague remember this intention, hopeless as it is in the long run, to seal oneself off from the dangers of the outside world. The advertising for these closed villages suggest that it is possible to avoid the broader society much of the time and only visit it by helicopter, an auto blindado, or television.
Autos blindados does not mean cars for the seeing impaired. Some want increased security but still have to drive, so they will buy a $30-60k car and invest $20k more to armor it. For months I thought “blindados” in the metro station meant special services for the blind. Not so. It means that the clerk is behind bullet-proof glass. Thus, an auto blindado is one that has been prepared for extraordinary traffic problems like “lightening” kidnappers, carjacking, armed attack, and other normal Sao Paulo traffic hazards.
The internationally recognized zebra stripe that normally shows where pedestrians can walk safely has a more ambiguous meaning in Sao Paulo. Here it sometimes seems to merely concentrate the pedestrian targets into a more convenient place for speeding drivers. It often does not slow drivers down, and sometimes encourages them to speed up to show who has the most iron. This general rule is softened in residential neighborhoods where pushing a baby carriage or walking with a cane will often restore the Brazilians’ sense of warmth and sensitivity. Since I walk a great deal here I test this sense of amiability daily, though always with a heightened sense of mortality.
(This amiability, by the way, is latent to nonexistent for motorcycle riders who are anonymous behind their helmets and darkened visors. For the overactive imagination they can look somewhat like the riders in Cocteau’s Orpheus where they are the bringers of death, transporting people to the underground. (Sorry for the footnote, but we just saw a Sao Paulo dance theater last night doing a version of the Orpheus legend — though without motorcycles.)
Otherwise, in normal urban driving, drivers normally expect pedestrians to look out for themselves. For the macho and the helmeted, stopping for one means a loss of face, of time, and of nerve.
A typical view of anytime rush-hour, stopped under an underpass
The above rule about looking out for yourself is doubled for bicycles in this least-of-all-bicycle-friendly cities (though I hear that Lagos and Cairo are worse).
Here people load their bikes into vans and take them to the park for a ride. There is even a special bicycle park where children can ride their bikes on a closed course.
My favorite park is Ibiripuera near where I am living. In previous years I rode a bicycle through the city to get to the relative tranquility there, but I was considered foolhardy for riding from home to the park (“Don’t you have a car?”). Once at the park there are miles of inner roads with an exercise course, running track, soccer fields, places to hang a hammock, gardens, statues, fountains, and a huge lake with cormorants and black swans. People ride there, then load their bicycles into the van and drive home, having experienced as much nature as they might see that day. I now understand why my mother-in-law looked at me with such a sense of pity and farewell whenever I took out the bicycle for a ride to the park.
Recently the city has painted bicycle lanes to be used on Sunday only. It is possible to get to Ibipuera Park on these lanes (as long as you remember that not all drivers approve of, or and feel obligated by, this one-day-a-week bicycle-friendly policy). Getting to the bike lanes is still fraught with the everyday problems of navigating among cars, utility vehicles, construction of the new metro stop, rain grooves (bike traps), and other normal hazards. However, once in the park you can ride fairly peacefully, drink fresh coconut water, and sit with the black swans.
By the way, even the bicycle lanes are a source of political controversy. A recent newspaper article showed a potentially dangerous deviation in a city bicycle lane — bicycles have to turn across a busy traffic lane to continue on the path. Apparently the deviation was an alteration to the original plan — allegedly by the responsible transportation director in order to route the bicycle riders past his parents place.
Some other challenges: Rain grooves: Some predatory drivers joke about scaring bicyclists, but they are no more dangerous than the rain grooves cut in the pavement to carry off the flash flooding of streets. The grooves are about 5” wide and angled to defy you to get across them while you are dodging other traffic. You can be successful in avoiding cars, service vehicles, other bicycles, and the ever-present “motoboys” — and then catch a wheel in a rain groove.
A normal pattern for rain grooves. These are usually at street corners where you are most distracted.
Urban esthetics — a rain groove/bicycle trap with fallen blossoms from the beautiful Brazilian Ipe tree.
More about the “motoboys:” an urban species with a hazard rate roughly that of lumberjacks and sawmill workers. Because of the turgid pace of traffic and the general lack of parking in the city, the fastest way to get documents and packages across town is by motorcycle messenger. This is roughly equivalent to the bicycle messengers in San Francisco, but astronomically more dangerous. There are thousands of young people on motorcycles darting in and out of the clogged car lanes, totally ignored by the drivers who consider them an annoyance or prey. They are paid by the delivery, so speed is the key to any profit they make. I think for relaxation they must do something like shark hunting or skydiving.
This motorcycle culture is so ingrained that you find riders with a passenger on date night darting through heavy traffic at speed. Date night is probably more exciting if you have to risk your life to get there.
This practice is unrelated to the American-style Harley Davidson riders. There is a nearby “biker bar” where you can find up to 20 Harley’s parked on a sunny Saturday. Having a Harley here is a major economic proposition, so the riders seem a bit more like the executive Harley riders in the U.S. These priceless machines do not veer and race about in city traffic, they park at a nice restaurant.
Sao Paulo “motoboy” in traffic (sometimes even the motoboys are gridlocked)
Another tip: Signalling other drivers with your headlight works in a way that might be unexpected for North American drivers. In the U.S. a driver may flash the headlights to invite you to cross or take the right-of way: “go ahead, I’ll wait for you.” In Sao Paulo it often means the opposite – “I’m coming through, and my car is more blindado than yours.”
Sometimes it can also mean a polite invitation to go ahead, but there is no way of knowing this without making eye contact with the drivers and making a guess about their intentions. Like many rules in Brazil the actual custom in practice is contextual and individual — it seems to require some deep-level intuition that may come with practice.
Lacking this special intuition, the basic tactics of timidity, concentration, and a bit of luck seem the best bet for the new visitor.
In spite of the traffic, I love the city when I am not actually hating it
In the Sao Paulo spring (which is autumn in the Midwest of the United States) you can sometimes hear unusual birds calling from somewhere in tropical trees that have been preserved in spite of the massive concrete of roads and sidewalks. Many are boxed with concrete borders that allow water to reach their roots and sometimes an old, struggling tree still pokes out through the side of a building wall where a space has been left for it. Others seem to be a century old and spread their roots wherever they like, crumbling the asphalt and showing the power they can still muster against the concrete of the city.
An ancient ficus — still holding its own against traffic and asphalt.
In many ways, trees are safer than bicyclists or motoboys. There are also amazing occurrences of tropical bird calls. In this area which was once indigenous territory, the streets are often named after birds of flowers in the indigenous language A nearby street is named Bem-te-vi, after the cry of a forest bird. The name mimics the greeting in Portuguese that means “good to see you.”
As these old trees break up the sidewalk, someone simply tops off the concrete a bit. The sidewalks here are very uneven and hard to navigate except in the most commercial areas, so this is actually an improvement.
Drivers and motoboys don’t hear this ancient invitation of nature.
The weekend markets. The concrete and rough sidewalks and streets eventually eventually lose their disconcerting character and become a simple fact of daily life. Then you notice the respect for old trees in the neighborhoods, the congenital politeness of most Brazilians, the richness of the city life around you, and even the city markets.
These markets shut down whole streets with lines of kiosks and tents erected for the day. If you can get through the dizzying array of streets and their unusual names, the markets are a wonder. The city of Sao Paulo is surrounded by the federal state of Sao Paulo which has rich agricultural lands. The area was once a primary coffee-growing center in Brazil, and what land is available is very productive. There is some sugar cane in the interior, but the farm products of fruits and vegetables are a culinary wonder. Those accustomed to farmers’ markets in the United States will find many things they have never seen — huge piles of mangoes, papayas, herbs without English names, mounds of tofu from farmers of Japanese descent, and unimaginable tables filled with fresh fish, dried cod, and parts of animals I’d rather not know about.
After bicycling in traffic, visiting the market is one of the most exciting things to do in the outer neighborhoods of Sao Paulo. Like the open markets in, say, San Francisco, there are occasionally tents with boutique cheese, nuts and condiments, but the real business is for picky shoppers looking for fresh avocados, melons, and a dizzying array of fruits and vegetables.
The only serious assault on nutrition here are the tents selling pastel (pl: pasteis)– envelope-sized pockets of thin dough containing cheese, meat, or various mystery substances. . For the finicky there is also a “vegetarian” option with escarole and cheese — deep fried in the same pan as all the rest. It’s very popular, but to eat it you need to catch it between the moment it is too hot to eat and when it cools and becomes to slippery to hold.
Market street food — the pastel — an envelope-sized, deep fried, pocket of dough. Hundreds are sold by the hour.
Fresh papayas in a neighborhood market in Sao Paulo
These tables of papayas are everywhere in the market, so you can amble about comparison shop for exotic fruits.
Cashews (caju) originally come like this. The actual nut is in a shell at the top of the fruit. Often only the nut is harvested and the rest is returned to the soil. However, the fruit is increasing used for caju juice as well.
The entries to this blog are meant for the wonderful UW-Milwaukee students who took this Study Abroad trip, and to the teachers and cultural artists with whom we spent our time. I accompanied trip, assisting in various ways the leader, Professor Simone Ferro of the Dance Department, the Peck School of the Arts, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. I also served as self-appointed documentarian and informal blogger, trying to reflect the main themes of the trip.
The students themselves provided ongoing personal comments on social media; this blog is, for the most part, not about those personal experiences so much as the group activities and our contact with Afro-Brazilian culture in Northeast Brazil.
Though there will be some additions to the individual entries as there is more time for reflection and feedback, the basic posts are in place.
Several of the individual posts include video clips of dance classes or festival performances. The video clips are linked below as well for anyone who would like to see them all together.
Drumming classes with Afro-Brazilian samba-reggae group Olodum, Salvador (Bahia), June, 2015
Dance classes in Salvador (e.g., orixa dances, Maracatu, Frevo), June, 2015
Dance classes in indio/tapuia movement typical of the Baixada style of Bumba-meu-boi da Floresta, Sao Luis, June 2015.
Dance classes in the heritage Afro-Brazilian dance Tambor da Crioula, with Bumba-meu-boi da Floresta, Sao Luis, June 2015.
Zabumba group Boi Unidos Venceremos in performance, Sao Luis, June 2015
Batizado (baptism) of the boi/ox, Bumba-meu-boi da Floresta, Sao Luis (Maranhao), June 23-24, 2015
